


Flirt

by scribbledstars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Draco and Hermione are BFFS, Draco can't stop flirting with Potter, F/M, M/M, Ministry of Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbledstars/pseuds/scribbledstars
Summary: Draco and Hermione make a devastating duo at the Ministry as the respective Department Heads of Wizarding Culture Preservation and Muggle Relations. When Harry Potter gets involved in their latest joint project, Draco can’t seem to stop himself from constantly flirting with him even when it doesn’t seem to affect the golden boy at all. He’s wrong. Harry is most definitely affected. Includes Slytherin shenanigans, Draco sucking at quidditch, and Harry trying not to be charmed. Draco POV.





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing Harry Potter fan-fiction after years of being a reader. After so many great depictions of Draco Malfoy, my favorite character, I hope there's still a little space for how I always wanted to imagine him. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters do not belong to me.

It should have been a fleeting idea. The kind that pops into your head and gives you a good chuckle, or in Draco’s case a wry grin because _Malfoys don’t chuckle_. The kind that makes you appreciate that Professor Snape helped you build strong occlumency walls because if anyone heard that thought they’d send you straight to St. Mungo’s and reminds you to check whether you’ve developed mad legilimency skills since the last time you attempted (and failed miserably) to sneak into someone’s mind.

Granger, excuse me, _Hermione_ (never _Weasley_ because only loud and uncultured redheads get to experience the disdainful way the name _Weasley_ has rolled off the tongues of Malfoys for generations – this makes Draco pause because when he puts it that way, it sounds oddly sensual and the thought of Weasley on his tongue in any way makes him gag) is working diligently in the Ministry office across from his so he puts down his quill and concentrates on the crown of Hermione’s head.

…  
…  
…

Nothing. Damn.

Professor Snape had told him years ago, during his time at Hogwarts that Draco’s penchant for selfishness and self-obsession made him uniquely well suited for occlumency. That should have been a compliment except Professor Snape had then frowned and said this meant Draco’s ability to emphasize and understand others was complete shit. And a lack of perception outside of his own self meant his legilimency skills were essentially nonexistent then.

Draco narrows his eyes and focuses harder on the brunette across from him. Hermione should be thinking something along the lines of _I’m amazing, my report on improving muggle relations will surely change the Ministry’s mind about funding a peer exchange program for young muggleborn witches and wizards in England the summer before starting Hogwarts_ , and strains to catch any thoughts along those lines.

…  
…  
…

Nothing. Wait.

He groans and lets his head smack onto the dark wood table his reports are scattered on. That’s how he thinks of his own reports, which actually are amazing and has changed the Ministry’s mind about supporting the preservation of many pureblood customs. So while he’d improved on the whole understanding others things, it appeared as though his legilimency skills were still nonexistent.

The noise must have made Hermione stop her furious writing, because he hears her chair screech against the tile and then the confident _clack_ , _clack_ of her heels grow louder as she approaches him.

“All done there Draco? Because I could use your help on writing the conclusion, you always know how to not antagonize those greedy bastards but still make them feel guilty in that special way of yours.”

Right.

At some point in the last year, Draco and Hermione had grudgingly become co-workers and then, oddly enough, friends.

It was by chance Draco had ended up at a small corner desk in her office. His mother had been rejected at yet another British establishment once they had heard she’d planned on holding a pureblood ceremony – a tradition that had existed among their community for generations. He had just finished his Mastery in Magical History in France. History had been something he’d enjoyed as a child but had neglected during his time at Hogwarts. After the war, he’d been depressed, wandless, and friendless. His fond memories of France had prompted him to make a fresh start there, and he’d remained there until he was 28 and his mother had asked him to come home after his father’s death.

Armed with research skills and anger over his mother’s mistreatment, he had marched into the Ministry demanding the enforcement of nondiscrimination law and been directed to write an official request. Although he didn’t know how to write an official request, he did know that he was allowed access to the open files at the Ministry, granted that the files were kept at the Ministry and not allowed out. Apparently Hermione had antagonized someone in their office that week and they thought that Draco would feel ashamed about drafting a request for Pureblood Rights in her department, so when he had requested an area to work on his request, he’d been directed to the Department of Muggle Relations.

Well, he hadn’t felt ashamed. Even when Hermione had ignored him the first day (Draco had ignored her too).

The second day he’d flirted with the one attractive man in her department, Marcus, and snagged a template for official requests from him. Draco had then made the mistake of leaving his work on his desk.

The third day found Hermione fuming over them in the morning. They’d argued, yelled at each other, called each other names, and security had to step in when they’d both pulled out their wands and Hermione had almost punched him the second time in his life.

At home, he had remembered being accused of being _as bad as the Nazi’s, honestly_. Which made absolutely no sense to him, but went and did his muggle research (with some help from his muggleborn colleagues in France of course), and returned the following day to Hermione’s office to debate the inconsistencies of her assumption – that pureblood customs revolved around superiority as opposed to just a defense mechanism to combat fears that their culture would be lost. Albeit a defense mechanism that had resulted in a profound level of what he now understood was misplaced hate. That what appeared to be small mistreatments, such as discrimination against a ceremony that itself was purely traditional with no hate messages against muggleborns, was how another Voldemort could rise to power. As an expert in Magical History, it had been an easy jump to discuss the merits about preserving magical culture as well.

Hermione had glowered at him but then graciously conceded that she had misunderstood his intentions. On Draco’s part, he finally apologized for both his youthful indiscretions and that it was coming 10 years too late. It been an uncomfortable moment for both of them. It wasn’t until she offered to edit his written request and returned it back to him with just one change,  ~~ _Pureblood Rights_~~ crossed out and replaced with _Wizarding Culture Preservation_  and the comment "this is more politically correct" penciled to the side that he had realized she wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

His mother’s reservation was accepted at the protests of the owner, and 14 requests from other pureblood families later Draco found himself pitching the idea of re-establishing a small department that had existed in the Ministry about 200 years ago, the Department of Magical Society to be renamed the Department of Wizarding Culture Preservation. As an ode to the outdated Ministry policies that he and Hermione now lambasted on a regularly basis, the Ministry had no choice to concede when all his paperwork was in order.

A couple months into his job as the head and sole member of the Department of Wizarding Culture Preservation, Draco had heard Hermione (he was was still assigned to a small corner desk in her department) ranting against conservatives that refused to make their establishments open to the muggle families of muggleborn witches and wizards. The Ministry’s nondiscrimination policies were explicit for all witches and wizards, something muggles were not included in. He had commented they might have some success if they added a clause about muggle families of muggleborn witches and wizards first being educated about respecting magical shops – that poking and prodding items unfamiliar to them caused all sorts of messes and damage, and that their screeches of disbelief were infuriatingly disruptive. Hermione had gaped at him, asked if he wanted to write the clause himself and then co-sign it as a joint-department venture seeing as such a clause fell neatly into increasing awareness of wizarding culture for muggleborns.

He considered this for less than a second before agreeing. The rest they say, is history. Three successful joint bills, and two successful joint programs later – Draco had his own office space right across the hall from Hermione’s much larger department. He’d smiled and flirted his way through her employees, getting them to do little side projects for him until they worked for him as much as they did for her.

As co-workers they were devastatingly efficient and successful in the notoriously difficult to please Wizengamot, enough that their superiors in the Ministry cabinet were starting to take notice. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione was fast tracked into a cabinet position within the next 10 years and eventually became Minister of Magic herself. He was surprised however that this didn’t surprise him. Look at him, 10 years after Hogwarts, _10 years after Voldemort_ , thinking positively about Hermione Granger.

 

He’s still pondering this when Hermione hands over her portion of the grant proposal.

“You mean when I think of all the horrible but true things I want to say and then revise it to say the exact opposite, _I believe in my pure heart that you wise members of the budgeting and oversight committee would endeavor to prioritize the education and integration of young witches and wizards into wizarding culture over spending all your time discussing the defense budget that I understand is very important and not all bloated to the seams-_ ” Draco begins to pontificate before Hermione cuts him off with a laugh.

“Is that how you do it? And don’t let Ron hear you talking about their defense budget. You know the Auror department is still spread thin, though Merlin knows why because they really are well funded. What I wouldn’t give to have the clearance to see just where all the money is going.” Hermione tries to say diplomatically before frowning.

They’d talked at lengths about the inevitable corruption and misappropriation of funds that seemed to occur in every department except theirs. Hermione ran the Department of Muggle Relations under a strict rule of morals and ethics and as a result, her department consistently expanded in both number and influence within the ministry at an unprecedented rate. This was in direct contrast to Draco’s one-man department, newly coined under the term Department of Wizarding Culture Preservation at Hermione’s suggestion that Department of Pureblood Rights was not the message he should be going for. He did not work under the same level of morals and ethics as she did, but was obscenely rich as the sole heir to the Malfoy and Black fortunes, and subsequently felt no need to take skim any of the paltry sums that miraculously found its way into his budget.

Draco had offered to fund some of Hermione’s projects before but she’d resisted, saying that the Ministry needed to “put its money where its mouth was” because apparently just saying they supported something wasn’t enough to exact what she called _true change_ – commitment towards causes was shown by funding, the more permanent the better. If he chose to donate anonymously after they started, well, that was another story (Hermione could be downright Slytherin when she needed to be). He kind of understood what she was saying...but still opted to just use his own funds. But that was why she was more suited to rising the Ministry ranks than he was, not that he wanted any sort of leadership position beyond heading his own little department after his father had made the Malfoy name a decidedly cautionary dark smear around the Ministry.

“If we start talking about all they ways the Ministry needs to reform we’ll never finish this grant proposal draft and Weasley will start yelling at me again about how I’m a horrible influence if you miss dinner because of work again,” Draco says with a sniff.

Hermione just grins back at him and says “join us for dinner then” with a decidedly mischievous grin that he thinks must be from his own bad influence (again, how Slytherin of her).

He shudders, remembering the first and only time he’d taken her up on the offer. It’d been a disaster. They’d dragged the outdated Ministry polices through the mud over mashed potatoes while Weasley had silently ate his way through an entire plate of fried chicken. Over dessert they’d singled out an exhaustive list of incompetent employees they’d worked with and discussed hypothetical ways retrain them until Weasley had all but screamed “thank Merlin you two did not get along at school, that would have been a nightmare,” before grabbing the rest of the blackberry pie.

It had been a really good pie that Weasley’s mother made, and Draco had been hoping to get a second slice.

He didn't get one. 

So instead they had work lunches, half the time at Draco’s favorite overpriced wizarding establishments (on him) and half the time at Hermione’s favorite hole-in-the-wall muggle places (on her). She’d introduced to him something called pizza, the America muggle version of the Italian dish, which consisted of a fluffy bread topped with copious amounts of melted, greasy cheese and giant pieces of pepperoni and sausages. Draco refused to eat anything that resembled a tree or a leaf, which surprisingly ruled out the majority of vegetables like broccoli and spinach. Pizza was great, because all he had to say was “no veggies,” and he never had to pick anything foliage-like off his plate.

Because he’d be become friends with Hermione in the past year this meant he saw a lot of the Golden Trio as well. Weasley and Potter were Aurors in different leadership positions, not that he cared to remember which, but knew they were constantly in and out of various Ministry departments on a regular basis. Draco did know that part of Potter’s uniform was slightly tighter that Weasley’s, which accented Potter’s _not attractive muscled forearms and torso_ , had green stitching that _did not bring out the color of his eyes_ , and was cut with sections covered in black leather. Leather. Useful for defense in combat situations, and not useful for Draco’s wandering thoughts whenever Potter was in his eye-line.

But seeing them didn’t mean they spoke, really. Although Weasley felt comfortable asking him where Hermione was if he dropped by and she wasn’t there and sometimes left little messages from him to relay to her ever since the dinner fiasco. It was sweet actually, not that Draco would admit it, that Weasley always liked to come see her in person rather than just send an inter-office memo. Other than that, the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio waited quietly if Draco and Hermione were discussing something, and mostly ignored him even when Draco sneered at them when they accidentally made eye contact.

Except this Friday afternoon, the one afternoon Draco had to give up his lunch partner because the Golden Trio always had lunch together on Fridays, she’d asked him after they left - “Why do you do that thing with your nose every time?”

“What thing with my nose?” Draco had asked, puzzled about what she was referring to.

“You do this thing where you wrinkle your nose. It’s kind of cute. Harry asked me about it last time, whether you had allergies!”

Draco had frowned. He hadn’t wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t been trying to be cute. He’d been sneering at them because he didn’t like them. He had then said this to Hermione.

Then it had been Hermione’s turn to frown, “I thought we were over all that childhood nonsense, Draco, it’s been 10 years,” she’d said to him disapprovingly.

“Well, they never talk to me so I certainly don’t have a reason to like them,” Draco had responded, ignoring his traitorous thoughts of how he did like how Potter looked in his Auror uniform.

Hermione had then done the thing where her eyebrows furrowed, indicating she was deep in thought before she had responded. “You’re rather cold towards them aren’t you, they’ve seen you chatting with all the people in my office but you put up these walls immediately when they come around, maybe you could just try to treat them at least how you treat our employees?”

Draco had considered this, and answered that fine, he would “just try.” But then Hermione had suggested he “smile at them next time.”

Which had led him to the St. Mungo’s level of idea that had started this walk down memory lane about legilimency and how Draco had ended up in the Ministry anyways. Because he knew he had a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that got him things and made people overlook his last name, Malfoy. It was the smile that had made Hermione’s employees Draco’s employees as well. When he was younger he was pointy (Draco could admit this now only because he wasn't pointy anymore) and sneering had fit him better. But now he no longer slicked back his icy blonde hair and let it fall softly along his jawline, and he’d filled out his angles to an almost _angelic_ degree. Draco had long accepted he was attracted to men when he was in France after carefully hidden experimentation at Hogwarts, and therefore embraced the fact that instead of hot (like Potter was, dammit) he was _enchantingly pretty_ as he had been told before, especially when he smiled. Especially when he smiled and flirted and purposefully acted coy.

So when Hermione had suggested he “smile at them next time,” the idea that popped into his head was as follows:

**I should flirt with Potter.**

Because he certainly wasn’t going to flirt with Weasley.

And Potter was…

Fine. Potter was devastatingly hot in his Auror uniform and Draco was constantly biting back flirtatious comments whenever he was around because in addition to Potter being devastatingly hot they hadn’t actually spoken a single word to each other since Draco had become friends with Hermione.

On second thought, they hadn’t spoken at all since 10 years ago – when Potter had defended the Malfoy’s during their trial for their “last minute, but essential contribution to winning the war against Voldemort” and they had avoided Azkaban at the narrowest of margins. Draco had caught up to him after and murmured an embarrassing soft “thank you,” leaving before Potter had a change to respond.

So there was that.

But Hermione had just given him blanket permission to smile at Potter, which in Draco’s book meant she was encouraging Draco to comment on how Potter looked in his Auror’s uniform. Rationally, Draco knew this was not what Hermione had intended, but something about Potter made Draco irrationally irrational.

And that was how the fleeting idea about flirting with Potter came to be, and which was why one week later, Draco was ready to say his first words to Potter in 10 years.


	2. The Project

Things were moving quickly on their joint project. In the past week Hermione had rallied support from Hogwarts and gotten preliminary approval from the majority of the Ministry cabinet members, who were quite intrigued about the concept of a peer exchange program with muggles. Thankfully, Malfoy has had a similar reception from his pureblood contacts. The vision was as follows: Muggleborn witches and wizards are paired with a fellow witch or wizard established in the magical community the summer prior to entering Hogwarts. July is spent at the muggle residence. August is spent at the magical residence. Both families meet at the train station on September 1st, at which point the magical family assists the transition onto the platform so both communities can send their children off to school together. It was going to be a huge gain in both muggle relations and wizarding culture preservation if successful.

They’re now working out the logistics for the application and screening process, and the guidelines for suggested activities and appropriate conversations to have in both the muggle and magical portions of the exchange program. It’s enough work that Draco almost forgets his plan to _smile_ at Weasley and Potter and maybe finally say something, _anything_ , to Potter (by almost forgets he means it's been eating at him _constantly_ the past week). Draco glances at the small antique clock on the corner of his desk. 11:51 AM. Nine minutes until the weekly reunion for the Golden Trio. From across the hall he can hear Hermione on the phone with the magical security company that does background checks, which means she still has to call a muggle psychiatrist and a wizarding mind healer before she has time to break for lunch. It’s unlikely she’ll finish before noon, which offers Draco the perfect opportunity to make the first move.

Draco hears their shuffling in the hall right on the dot, and moves to catch them before they interrupt Hermione’s phone call.

“Hey, Weasley!" Draco calls out, "She’s on the phone with a psychiatrist and still has a mind healer to call. Probably won’t be done until for another 10 minutes or so.” 

They turn to look at him. The sudden eye contact with two very intense Aurors is almost too much to bear, but Draco fights the urge to sneer at them because apparently it just looks like he is _cutely wrinkling his nose_ to Hermione and _does he have allergies_ to Potter.

“Um, what?” Responds Ron. Very eloquent.

Draco almost sighs but then says fuck it, and _smiles_ his most nicest smile, the smile he used on Marcus his second day at Hermione’s office and got the official request template a couple moments later.

In this case, the two just stare at him.

He peers over their shoulders to see Hermione gesturing at him. Gesturing what? She’s making pushing movement at him. Oh. She wants him to invite them into his office. _She wants him to invite them into his office?_ Draco shakes his head no, but she makes a pleading motion her hands. Draco also makes a pleading motion with his hands. She glares at him, all while continue an entirely pleasant conversation on the phone.

Merlin.

Throughout this silent conversation, he can tell that Weasley and Potter are watching the exchange with interest. Draco attempts his most nicest smile again, and is pleased (not that he would ever admit it) when Weasley and Potter exchange glances and smile tentatively back. “Alright,” Draco says, still smiling, “Weasley you can wait in my office until she’s done.”

Draco does realize he’s still only addressed Weasley, but Potter also follows Draco dutifully into his office as Hermione continues to shoo them on. They sit there awkwardly in silence for what seems like hours, but actually only 5 minutes has passed when Draco finally says something. The first something he has spoken to Potter in 10 years. And the words are –

_“Potter, I like your uniform.”_

Because Draco does like Potter’s uniform, the tighter, leather adorned, with green stitching version of Weasley’s. Potter stares at him blankly. Which surprisingly just makes Draco want to get a reaction from him, _any reaction_ , and because he knows that insults will just make Hermione pissed off later if she hears about it, he starts again –

“I mean, it looks good on you and it’s different from Weasley’s uh (Draco wants to say ill-fitting but that’s an insult so instead he chooses to say) more classic version, so I just wanted to say that yeah, I like your uniform.”

Potter says “Oh.”

Weasley asks “What’s wrong with my uniform?”

To which Draco responds “nothing,” but apparently in a manner that makes Weasley realize that something, indeed, is wrong with his uniform (he’s not wrong, Draco did say nothing while taking notice of how ill-fitting it is, at least compared to Potter’s). Which makes Weasley upset and starts him on a diatribe on how Hermione is always talking about how mature Malfoy is now, but that Weasley knew that Malfoy was just biding his time before showing his true colors.  

“ _Weasley”_ Draco says with disdain, enjoying the way both men jump and narrow their eyes at the way he’s said it – dripping with disgust, “Why don’t I tell you about what Hermione and I are working on, something that I’ve invested most of the past few months on and will likely dedicate thousands of my person funds to, and you can tell me again _to my face_ that I’m showing my true colors now?”

So he does, and purposefully lets some of his excitement and passion about the project bubble to the surface. The two ask surprisingly well-educated questions, and offer some interesting ideas and input that Draco makes a show of jotting down. Half an hour later he doesn’t realize that Hermione’s been long done with her phone conversations until she drops two pizzas down on his desk.

“Brought the food since you guys seemed like you finally got over yourselves and I didn’t want to interrupt,” Hermione says cheerfully. Draco immediately grabs a slice and tries to hide the fact that he’s happy he’s not eating lunch alone this Friday. Weasley, on the other hand, expresses that he is not happy.

“What? No way, Hermione. You _always_ eat lunch with Malfoy and we _only_ get you on Fridays.”

Interesting. Draco had always been a little miffed that Hermione forgoed their usual lunch outings to have a Golden Trio reunion on Fridays but in hindsight that meant Hermione had lunch with him the other four days of the week.

 Hermione just rolls her eyes, “Oh please, you three always have Auror cases to discuss and I’d much rather talk about my work with Draco.”

“Three?” asks Draco.

“Yeah, they’re always with Neville, you remember him from school right,” answers Hermione.

“You have lunch with Longbottom? I thought it was a Golden Trio exclusive,” says Draco.

Hermione snorts at that, “I haven’t heard us being referred to at that for years. It’s usually just Neville, Ron, Harry, and Luna and I – all of us from our year that works at the ministry," and then adds "Sometimes Blaise joins us. He was your year in Slytherin right?” in a cautious tone. 

“Except you only come Fridays now because you’re always eating lunch with Malfoy,” says Ron. Hermione chooses to ignore him.

Draco instead focuses on the fact that _Blaise Zabini_ eats lunch with Gryffindors, and the cautious way Hermione had mentioned him. Merlin, he hadn’t thought of any of his old classmates in years. Not since he’d up and left for France after many of his classmate's parents had made it clear they didn't want their children associating themselves with the very tarnished Malfoy name. It had hurt back then, and although he’d received a few owls from Blaise and Pansy since his return to England, he hadn’t been able to open them to read. It still hurt now. Still, things were different, ever since his father had passed away and his mother had worked hard at re-inserting herself in the right pureblood circles. She was good at things like that. Draco had stayed mostly under the radar an France, and built quite a solid reputation for himself in Academia that was just now starting to trickle into England, along with work he was doing with Hermione. 

“Why Blaise?” Malfoy finally brings himself to ask, interrupting the bickering between the married couple.

Hermione blinks at him, “He’s dating Luna.” Then Hermione looks a bit uncomfortable. “He, uh, told me a little bit about what happened after the war, with his parents and all, he feels bad about it and said he knows you don’t want anything to do with him. That’s why I didn’t invite you to our Friday lunches, I wanted to, but thought it might not be fair to you or him, if you were still mad at him that is.”

Draco expects Weasley to make a fuss about the fact that Hermione has hidden an invitation for him to join their Friday lunches in there. Wisely, Weasley and Potter continue munching on their pizza. Loudly, of course.

“Are you still mad at him?” asks Hermione. Truthfully, Draco doesn’t know. 10 years is a long time to hold on to a grudge, evident by the small strides he’s made with Weasley and Potter today, but betrayal from a friend stings worse than animosity from arch-enemies.  

“I don’t know,” Draco finally responds, “but I do think I have some owls to open and read.”

“Do they know we’re not coming today?” Potter asks, thankfully after swallowing a rather large bite of pizza. Which only makes Draco think about what else Potter could fit into his mouth.

Again. What.

Draco knew he had a problem. It was so much easier at Hogwarts when he hated Potter on principle. But now he didn’t really hate Potter... or anyone else for that matter. Draco had hated so many people when he was younger, he wasn’t even sure he had it in him to hate anyone anymore. Which left him with a grudging amount of gratefulness that Potter had testified at his trial, a smidgen of respect for how well Potter did his Auror duties (so he heard from the many conversations that revolved around Potter worship on the Ministry lifts), and a not so small amount of pure physical attraction to the tall, tanned, bed-headed, bright green-eyed, well built, 6’2” man that exuded waves of magical intensity and power sitting across from him.

Anyone else and Draco would have been pressed against his side, making more than just comments about how the uniform looked good on him. Something more along the lines of getting said individual out of the uniform, into Draco’s bed, and thrusting in Draco slowly, and then harder, and faster, and –

Merlin. No. Stopping those really inappropriately dirty thoughts right now. They were having lunch at his desk, on a Friday afternoon. With Hermione and her husband Weasley.

But if they were gone, maybe Draco could convince Potter to throw Draco onto the desk and –

No. Dammit. Now was not the time to fantasizing. There were eating pizza, for Merlin’s sakes. Draco really needed to get laid. He hadn’t taken anyone home since his last night in France. Just in case, Draco checks his occlumency walls (up and strong) and tries his hand at legilimency on Potter to see if Potter’s taken notice of flushed Draco feels and must appear. But no, Draco has not developed legilimency skills overnight, unfortunately.

Draco tunes back into the conversation to hear Hermione say she made sure to tell them they were having lunch in her office when she was grabbing the pizza from the front desk. Weasley and Potter gush about how cool they think her new project is, and Draco can tell how pleased she is to hear that from the light pink spots that dust across her cheeks. Which is how the game starts. It starts off innocently enough, with real insights.

“Maybe if this program had existed for us I could have gotten recommendations on wizarding literature before I started school,” says Hermione.

“Maybe if this program had existed for us I wouldn’t have wandered around the platform for 2 hours before hearing Mrs. Weasley mention the infamous platform 9 ¾,” says Potter.

Of course, soon it dissolved into absurdity.

“Maybe if this program had existed for us I wouldn’t have had to ask all my muggleborn friends what the function of a rubber duck is for my father,” says Weasley.

“Maybe if this program had existed for us I would’ve learned not the take those lemon drops Professor Dumbledore had drugged up with calming potions,” says Potter.

“You didn’t know?” says Ron, while Hermione says “WHAT?”

Draco bites back a laugh. It wouldn't do to laugh at something Potter says this early in their - whatever this is. Because Draco is the funny witty one. Lemon drops indeed. He can't remember when he had first heard about their calming effect, but it was one of those things you heard running into older students from Hogwarts.  _If you get in trouble do not take those lemon drops the Headmaster offers, you'll accept a horrific detention, and then regret it later when it wears off and he's gone._

“Maybe if this program had existed for us we could have played something other than quidditch, like soccer because soccer actually makes sense as a sport with an even point distribution system,” says Hermione.

Draco silently agrees with this statement as both Weasley and Potter argue all the merits of quidditch. Hermione has shown him soccer and the players are extremely attractive in their short shorts and jersey tops (although, quidditch has leather and Draco likes leather).

“But maybe if this program had existed for us some of our house assignments would be different, like Malfoy in Gryffindor and Harry in Slytherin,” says Ron fearfully.

“That’s right, maybe if this program had existed for us we wouldn’t have become arch-enemies Potter, maybe we would’ve ended up boyfriends,” Draco finally adds while thinking back to his fantasy, entering the maybe game with an all-kill hypothetical.

Weasley immediately protests, “No way Malfoy, Harry didn’t even realize he was gay until after Hogwarts or don’t you remember he dated my sister.”

Draco shrugs, “Maybe Potter would have figured out he was gay sooner if he didn’t hate me immediately. Nott said he realized he was bisexual halfway through our fifth year when he tried to kiss me when he was drunk.”

The pencil in Potter’s hand snaps and everyone turns to look at him.

Potter clears his throat and bites out a “stop talking about me like I’m not here,” but Weasley just pushes the other pencils on the table away from his fellow Auror and continues to shake his head, saying “Malfoy you’re not even Harry’s type, he dates athletes!”

Oh.

Draco faintly remembers reading about a few of Potter’s exploits in the prophet but had mostly disregarded them as idle gossip. Potter being accused of sleeping with two professional quidditch members on the same team?  As if! But now? Draco certainty understood the physical draw of athletes, case in point, soccer players.

“Er, that’s not exactly -” Potter starts to say but is cut off when Weasley asks “Are you saying you wanted to date Harry at Hogwarts?”

Now everyone turns to look at him. Draco forces himself not too blush. “I didn’t say that. I was just providing another absurd theoretical example to follow up the one you suggested about me ending up in Gryffindor and Potter ending up in Slytherin.”

“But mine is at least feasible, Harry actually was almost placed in Slytherin, the sorting hat asked him!” responds Weasley.

“Why wouldn’t mine be feasible then? I’m gay, Potter’s gay, and I played quidditch at Hogwarts or don’t you remember me beating a bludger into your face when you were keeper so I too am an athlete,” Draco shoots back.

At this point Ron snorts, “No offense to nerds because I’m married to one but Malfoy you were the least athletic athlete ever, you are however a complete nerd and I know this because you and Hermione get along so well over your nerdy things.”

“While this has taken an interesting turn,” Hermione breaks in, “it’s almost the end of our lunch break, don’t you two have somewhere to be like protecting the safety of the magical community?”

Potter immediately stands up, hauling Weasley up effortlessly with one arm. Draco notices the way Potter’s right arm flexes against his leather forearm brace. What the hell, might as well comment.

“Wow Potter, you’re really strong!” Draco says with a smile.

Weasley points at him angrily, “You see! That right there! You’re flirting with Harry!” Potter reaches out and forces Weasley to stop pointing.

“Thanks, I do work out consistently,” Potter responds breezily.

“Harry are you _flirting_ with _Malfoy_?” Weasley asks, mortified.

“No, it’s called a polite conversation,” Potter responds, hauling Ron into the hallway and Draco can no longer hear any more of their conversation.

Draco almost grumbles out loud because Weasley was right, he was flirting with Potter. Not that Potter had acknowledged it – polite conversation, seriously? That was how Potter was going to brush Draco off? Draco was going to show Potter the difference between flirting and polite conversation if it was the last thing he did.


	3. The Reunion

_Draco,_

_I heard you’re back in town. What do you say to meeting up for lunch sometime?_

_-Blaise_

* * *

_Draco,_

_I asked my mother and she said your mother said you can get owls at your half-muggle, half-wizarding flat. You’re not ignoring me are you?_

_-Blaise_

* * *

_Draco,_

_So you probably want an apology. Here it is – I’m sorry. Now can we meet up for lunch?_

_-Blaise_

* * *

The apology is so _Blaise_ , half-hearted and reluctant, that Draco almost smiles. But it’s not enough to dissipate the small knot of bitterness at the bottom of his stomach when he sees the elegant script he’s so familiar with. _Blas_ _é Blaise_ was what Draco use to call him, because Blaise never made an effort to explain what was really going on in his head. Draco used to appreciate the way Blaise presented himself above the fray, often saying things were plebeian. Working? Plebeian. Popularity? Plebeian. Caring? Plebeian. Until of course Draco had been treated like he was plebeian as well.

Draco’s about to stuff the owls back in his desk when he realizes there’s one more from Blaise. He’d missed it because it’s actually a full piece of parchment, and not just the usual slim scrap of haphazardly written and torn off corner. 

* * *

_Draco,_

_Luna says I need to write a real apology. She’s actually reading over my shoulder as I write this. You have your own Gryffindor now don’t you? So you know what I mean when I say they meddle._

_We were all just looking out for ourselves after the war – I wasn’t going to add to all the scandals my mom was already involved in. You know how her marriages go. So yeah I’m sorry that I had to choose between our friendship and my mom, but I’m not sorry that I chose my mom._

_I’d like to make up for it if you’ll let me. I’m quite tired about hearing all the good ol’ Gryffindor days, they’d be ~~horrified~~ dazzled by our Slytherin stories. You were always the best at recounting our adventures. Anyways, if you ever want to catch up I’m a consulting lawyer in Minister Shacklebolt’s office every Friday so feel free to stop by._

_-Blaise_

* * *

And just like that, the knot unties and disappears. Draco is disoriented because this is decidedly not _Blas_ _é Blaise_. The mention of Luna, how did _that_ happen? The mention of _having_ a Gryffindor? _Hermione?_ Merlin, If Ron heard that he’d probably murder Draco. The fond way Blaise is referring to _meddling?_ And the _feelings_ , the _choosing_ , the _downright honesty_. Not to mention the _compliment_ , and the _working_? All the italics that Draco was being forced to think in was giving him a headache. Blaise had _never_ given Draco a headache before. That was Pansy. Pansy had always been the one to give him a headache. 

* * *

_Draco,_

_I’m not going to apologize. We all needed to grow up on our own. Owl me when you’re ready. I miss you._

_Love,_

_Pansy_

* * *

It’s well-crafted and Draco can identify how Pansy is subtly demanding that Draco’s heartstrings are pulled. And damn, Draco’s heartstrings are pulled. That manipulative bitch, he thinks fondly. No apology, blunt, and saying she misses him like it was his fault? Draco tears open the second and is assaulted with enormous letters.

* * *

**Are you actually best FUCKING friends with HERMIONE FUCKING GRANGER? YOU FUCKING OWE ME AN APOLOGY.**

* * *

Draco laughs. And laughs. And laughs until his stomach hurts and his eyes tear up because the second owl proves that Pansy is exactly the same. Fiery temper and all. He doesn’t have an owl yet, but pulls out his quill and paper anyway to finally respond to the owls. He’ll send them tomorrow at the Owlrey on his way to work.

* * *

_Blaise,_

_I’ll see you this Friday in the Ministry Cafeteria? What do you think about telling them how we broke into Professor McGonagall’s office our entire 3 rd year and scrambled Ravenclaw’s names with ours so we got their exam scores? I bet Luna would love that._

_-Draco_

* * *

_Pansy,_

_**JEALOUS?** _

_Love,_

_Draco_

* * *

It turns out Draco doesn’t see Blaise on Friday, he sees him sooner actually, the very next day because both send owls immediately back making plans that very night. So the three of them meet up at Draco’s half-muggle half-wizarding flat, and Draco is selfishly pleased that Blaise and Pansy didn’t keep in touch much either beyond the occasional Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. It’s awkward for the first second, until Pansy smacks Draco on the head and shrieks out “EXPLAIN Hermione Granger” so Draco deflects and smacks Blaise with an equally loud “EXPLAIN Looney Luna,” which pisses Blaise off so he smacks Draco and snarls “DON’T call her that.” Pansy doesn’t get smacked at all, typical, and they pick up almost where they left off.

Not back to their 7th year when Draco was a Death Eater, Pansy was a shadow of herself, and Blaise was helping his mother “recover” from the death of husband #5. But back to when they gleefully gossiped about their classmates, plotted ways to cheat on their exams, and complained about Potter (admittedly this was just Draco). The only difference being that Blaise is talking about his work as a lawyer, “I sat through entire court hearings for my mother since I was 4, defending the Ministry against lawsuits is ridiculously easy,” and Pansy is talking about her work as an up-and-coming fashion designer, “Have you seen muggle fashion? It’s way more flattering than anything we have right now.” As much as Draco is slightly impressed about how well they turned out for a former Death Eater, a Black Widow’s son, and the girl that offered Harry Potter up to Voldemort he also tells them, “well it’s safe to say we are all depressingly boring.”

Pansy and Blaise look relieved.

“Any good gossip to share? What about you Draco, seeing as how you’re best friends with Hermione Granger now,” asks Pansy. Draco bites back the urge to correct her, because it’s not Granger anymore, it’s Weasley. And then he shudders, a conditioned Malfoy response to the word Weasley.

“I heard Potter’s type is athletes,” is what slips out of Draco’s mouth, even though he regrets it the moment the name leaves his lips. Blaise groans and Pansy rolls her eyes.

“Are you seriously still obsessed with Harry Potter? How can you still be obsessed with Harry Potter?” asks Pansy.

Draco is offended. He is not _obsessed_ with Potter. It’s not his fault this was the only interesting bit of news he picked up from his last conversation with Weasley and Potter a couple days ago.

“And by obsessed you mean crush right, we’re not going to pretend that Draco doesn’t have a crush on Harry Potter right because I’m not sure I can go through another lifetime hearing how much Draco hates Harry Potter,” says Blaise.

Draco feels himself flush. Pansy laughs. Draco throws his mug at her.

“You do know you had a crush on Harry Potter at school right,” says Pansy, “I mean you’ve figured that out right.”

Draco glares at her. “I wouldn’t say that I had a crush on him at school-” Both of his ex-friends scoff at this. “But I do admit that nowadays he looks really good in his Auror uniform. You know, it’s quite form fitting and has leather and green stitching, no one else seems to wear one like it.”

“You’re joking,” says Blaise.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” says Pansy.

“I wish I was, but he really pulls it off, and I have all these weird fantasies-” 

“OH MY GOD STOP,” screams Pansy. “I DO NOT want to hear your dirty fantasies. Merlin Draco, when did you start sharing stuff like that?”

“France, obviously, I was there for 10 years. The French are very open about their sexuality.” Draco flutters his eyelashes at her. Pansy blushes and shields her eyes, “Draco STOP IT. And that was not what we were referring to.”

“What?” asks Draco.

“You know how you said no one else seems to wear Potter’s uniform?” asks Blaise.

“Yes,” says Draco.

“What do you think Harry Potter does?” asks Blaise.

“Some type of lead Auror?” answers Draco.

Blaise and Pansy share a look.

“How can you pick up on the fact that Harry Potter likes athletes but don’t even know he’s _Head Auror_?” asks Pansy.

“He gets a unique uniform because he’s the _only Head Auror_ , it’s probably loaded with defensive protection spells which you know needs to be tight for maximal effectiveness,” adds Blaise.

Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Well, that explained a lot. Why Potter and Weasley never seemed to get in trouble for prancing into Hermione’s office. Why the fucking Defense budget was so high, of course the Ministry would give loads of money to their Golden Boy. Why Hermione both questioned that budget, but also seemed resigned to what it was. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if Potter and Weasley ran the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement into the ground.

He states this and Pansy rolls her eyes.

“You don’t read the prophet do you? Crime has been going down ever since he took up the position 2 years ago,” says Pansy. “Also, you know what? I’d much rather hear about how you plan to get into his pants than any more Harry Potter hate.” 

Draco grasps Pansy’s hands, “I flirted with him last Friday!”

“I’m not getting involved in this,” says Blaise, crossing his arms.

“When did you start?” asks Pansy.

“Last Friday was the first I talked to him since the war,” says Draco, “I told him I liked his uniform.”

Pansy laughs. “Smooth Draco, an indirect comment complimenting both his physique, style, and position of power.”

Draco frowns, “I didn’t know he was Head Auror then. And I bet Potter’s too dense to even pick up on something like that.”

“He’s Head Auror, you don’t get to be Head Auror if you’re dense. I can’t listen to this. Didn’t you say he likes athletes? Become an athlete. Hook up with Harry Potter. End madness.” States Blaise.

Draco looks down at himself a bit doubtfully. Weasley had called him a nerd, and the “least athletic athlete ever.” To be honest, Draco hadn’t kept up with quidditch after the war, it wasn’t even that popular in France, especially amongst those studying at the institute for Mastery degrees. He could count the number of times he had been on a broom since the incidence with Potter in the room of requirement. Pansy however, loves this idea and recommends he join the Ministry Co-Workers Quidditch League which starts in a month.

“The score is always in the papers! People love to turn out for the games when the Aurors play. They always win, but last year the Unspeakables almost beat them in the finals. I bet you’d be part of the Advocates team. They get last every year so they always play the Aurors first in every season, I’m sure they always need more players,” rambles Pansy.

“I was joking,” states Blaise.

“How do you know so much about the Auror team?” asks Draco suspiciously.

Pansy blushes. Draco grins, gotcha!

“They’re an attractive team. I go watch them. So what?” says Pansy, bristling.

“Anyone in particular?” asks Draco. Even Blaise leans forward, intrigued.

“No,” says Pansy, lips drawn tight.

“On second thought,” says Blaise, “I would love to see Draco play quidditch. Why Pansy and I will even go cheer you on when you play the Aurors!”

And that’s how Draco finds himself ordering a new broom, some athletic gear (that looks quite good on him), and cautiously practicing in the fields of Malfoy Manor. Hidden behind the many trees because he does not need his mother asking him any questions about his sudden re-interest in quidditch.

And so his plan to flirt with Potter morphs into a plan to seduce Potter (with impressive athletic skills) for a one-night stand. Because really, Draco needs to get the Potter fantasies out of his system. Draco catches up on the old Daily Prophet articles, **THE BOY WHO LIVED…TO BECOME HEAD AUROR** , **THE BOY WHO LIVED…TO STOP CRIME** , who wrote these headlines? And even snags a peak at some old gossip columns. He finds the one that mentions he slept with two quidditch teammates, not at the same time, but it’s still quite scandalous for their Golden Boy, “It was very no strings attached – Harry Potter’s quite the playboy you know.” There’s no mention that Potter dates anyone. Which is just fine with Draco obviously, because that’s all Draco wants, a no strings attached hot one-night stand to get Potter out of his system. 

Apparently the Auror Department is busy with some crime ring in the backwoods of England, so the next time Draco sees Potter is almost 3 weeks since their last conversation. He doesn’t even know they’re back until he hears a slight commotion heading into the Ministry Cafeteria. It’s a Friday, so he and Hermione are having lunch with Luna and Blaise, and even Pansy makes the trip from her Diagon Alley shop to join them, “4 Gryffindors and 2 Slytherins? I must be there to even the scales.” Except because Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom have been away – it’s just been 2 Slytherins, 1 Ravenclaw, and 1 Gryffindor. Even Pansy admits that “Hermione is pretty cool I guess.” So Draco has gotten used to having Friday lunches with his best friends. Luna is actually pretty fantastic – spacey, but very sweet, and _very intuitive_.

Pansy overtly elbows him roughly in the side the moment Potter enters the room. Hermione shoots them a curious glance. Draco glares at Pansy. Everyone close to the entrance _flocks_ to the trio.

“Amazing work catching the ringleader Harry!”

“Ron! How’s the arm? I heard you took down 4 wizards yourself.”

“Good to be done with the undercover assignment eh Neville?”

Ugh. Sycophants. Draco turns to Pansy to make fun of the admirers and catches her _licking her lips_. Interesting. He follows her eye-line, and she’s either focused on a very short and freckled red head or the very tall and lean man behind said red head. Neville _fucking_ Longbottom.

No way.

Draco realizes the exact moment Blaise figures this out as well, because Blaise covers his face his hands and mutters, “what is wrong with us?”

Draco almost takes offense to this, but realizes that Blaise has included himself in this distinction. Luna pats Blaise’s arms comfortingly and shoots a knowing glance at Draco.

“Hey! He’s dating you, I just want to sleep with him!” yelps Draco. Because obviously Luna knows everything.

“What are you talking about?” asks Hermione.

Draco is grateful she has not caught on. An inter-office memo floats to a stop in front of her. He watches as she reads through the page and sighs.

“Business emergency,” she states succinctly, and dumps an entire folder of forms in his arms. “These are the application forms for our peer exchange program, Harry wants to apply since Teddy is starting at Hogwarts soon, can you go through the questions with him and make sure he answers them correctly? It would break Teddy’s heart if the application was denied because of how bad Harry is at paperwork.”

“What, does Potter needs to fill out the same form 100 times to get it right?” asks Draco, gesturing to the stack she has handed him.

Hermione’s eyebrows furrow. “What? No! Those are for Harry to give to his Aurors, he mentioned that he knew a lot of people interested in applying.”

“Good to hear I don’t have to fill out the same for 100 times,” says a deep voice from behind Draco.

Draco is ashamed that he jumps out of his chair a little. Hermione whirls around and gives a Weasley a peck on his cheek before leaving. Draco shudders in disgust. Ugh. Weasley.

“You have a problem with them?” asks Potter, with a slight edge in his tone.

Draco shakes his head. “It’s not that, I’ve been conditioned since I was a baby to be repulsed by all things Weasley. It’s a Malfoy thing. Nothing uh… personal to it.” Well, that sounded less offensive in his head. Potter is still frowning. Draco tries to explain again. “I don’t hate Weasley! He treats Hermione really well, surprisingly, all those little notes he leaves her. Like I said, generationally, Malfoy’s are conditioned to be anti-Weasley…but I’m working on it?”

Apparently that’s the right thing to say because Potter laughs and sit down in the chair next to him. Draco glances nervously around the table. Weasley is pestering Luna, “How could you let this happen? They’re taking over!” Pansy is making eyes at Longbottom, “How was the case? I’d love to hear about what happened. And Blaise looks oddly content just holding Luna’s hand.

Weird.

“Any conditioning to Potters to make you shake with anger? Because that would explain your animosity when we were in school,” says Potter in a now friendly tone, unwrapping his sandwich.

“I’m pretty sure Potters make me shake in an entirely different way now,” says Draco coyly and quietly so Pansy can’t hear and make fun of him. Unfortunately, Potter doesn’t appear to have heard him because he just takes a bite of his sandwich. Draco watches as Potter chews really really really slowly. So that’s what Draco learns in the span of 5 minutes to store away in his list of Potter facts. Potter is bad at paperwork. Potter chews really slowly.  

Draco pulls out an application form and places it in front of Potter.

“I’m under orders to make sure you don’t mess up,” he explains. Potter sticks his hands into his pockets and pulls out an eclectic mix of miscellaneous items. A receipt, some hard candy, his Auror badge (Really? They made Potter carry around a badge?), and what appeared to be a business card with the phone number circled in red pen with the words “call me” scrawled along-side it.

...

...

...

Draco stares at the card.

Potter is still rooting around in his pockets cursing, “Dammit where’s my pencil,” so Draco politely pulls out a pencil from his pocket and then picks up the card.

“What’s this?” asks Draco, realizing a minute later his voice sounds like ice.

Pansy stops her chattering with Longbottom to spin around and look at Draco, probably recognizing his frosty tone as nothing good. Potter snatches the card from Draco’s hand.

“Oh, I forgot I had that, I meant to throw that out, it’s nothing,” says Potter nervously, crumpling it quickly into his palm. Ron notices and tries to pry Potter’s fist open.

“Harry! You need to date! Neville and I even drunkenly agreed he looked really fit, you know in an attempt to get into the spirit of things. Not your usual type, kind of a dumb blonde but you should still call him!”

So new things to add to this Potter list. Potter had a usual type. His usual type was not blonde. He also got numbers on a regular basis. Draco feels a lot less excited about his quidditch plan and decides Potter isn’t half as hot as he originally thought he was.

“Ron, I said I wasn’t interested,” says Potter. Weasley shrugs and turns back to his conversation with Luna.

“That wasn’t… I don’t sleep around, Malfoy,” says Potter.

“Sure,” says Draco, thinking about the Prophet’s gossip columns and Potter’s preference for athletes, “not when they’re not your type.”

“No, that’s, I don’t do hookups, that kind of thing, I date. You know, relationships.”

“Look Potter, I’m not going to go running to the Prophet to talk about your sex life so you don’t have to pretend that you’re all wholesome.”

“I didn’t think you would! I know you’re not like that,” says Potter, almost like he’s offended by what Draco has said.

“Right, because I didn’t rat on you and Hermione when we were in school to Rita Skeeter,” says Draco remembering that particular devious plan of his.

“I know you’re not like that anymore Malfoy,” Potter starts to say, until he hears Draco snickering, “Are you _laughing_ about that?”

Draco can’t hold it in. “That was so funny, you and Hermione were SO PISSED when that article about you guys dating was published, one of my better plans.”

Surprisingly, Potter lets out a small chuckle as well, “yeah we were, weren’t we?” Huh. Draco didn’t know Potter could laugh at himself.

“I’m not pretending to be wholesome Malfoy, I’m just explaining that the rumors are –” 

“So you’ve never slept around?” asks Draco. Potter grits his teeth. “I’m not saying I didn’t before, I’m saying I don’t anymore.”

Huh, well that complicates things in Draco’s no strings attached one-night stand. Because Potter certainly wasn’t going to date an ex-Death Eater. Not that Draco wanted to date Potter, because Potter was… Potter was… annoying. Exactly.

Wait, could this be Potter shutting him down? Draco stares at Potter from the corner of his eye. Was this Potter rejecting Draco in a subtle way? Wait. Who was he kidding. Potter was the least subtle person to ever graduate from Hogwarts – case in point, every year Potter found himself in huge trouble (that Professor Dumbledore always dug Gryffindor out of with obscenely over-rewarded house points, no Draco was not bitter about this, at all, it wasn’t like he and Pansy and Blaise spent hours working on plans to get the other houses in trouble for things Slytherins did). So Draco instead decides to take what Potter says at face value. Potter used to have hookups but not anymore. That meant Draco just had to change Potter’s mind to make an exception for him.

Draco likes being an exception.

Therefore, he chooses to ignore Potter’s comment about becoming a wholesome individual. In the meantime, they had to fill out this application form.

“Potter, I’ll ask the question and write it in for you, if I remember your handwriting from school you’d definitely get denied on the basis of your chicken scratch.”

“Right, ok.”

“Name?” 

…

...

...

“Harry Potter”

“No, Potter, FULL NAME.”

“Harry James Potter.”

...

...

...

"What's the next question Malfoy?" asks Potter, picking up his glass.

“Name of significant other?”

Potter spits out his water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco is also BFFS with Blaise and Pansy again. Surprise! Because Slytherins are awesome too and Draco deserves all the BFFS.


	4. The Lunch

In the last 10 minutes Draco has learned numerous things about Potter. Useful things. Not the random tidbits he’d picked up back in Hogwarts – like how Potter would eat a little dessert at the beginning of dinner (Draco had always wanted to try but knew his mother would die of shame if she heard he’d bypassed proper dinner etiquette), cross his arms if someone he didn’t know well sat next to him at the library (Draco had sat next to Potter in the library once and had gotten a unique reaction of ink thrown at his face), bite his lip if professors asked a question he didn’t know the answer to (Draco had lived for the moments when Potter would then get called on to answer because of the subsequent flailing and stupid very wrong answer), and sneak out late at night to practice quidditch on days he was upset (Draco was responsible for many of Potter’s late night flights and fondly remembered hearing his last name being cursed into the dark when he had accidentally eavesdropped a couple times), among many other mundane things.

Now Draco had learned substantial things about Potter’s life, especially because he snuck in a couple extra questions of his own.

The significant other question was really on there. Answer, single (note to self: yes!).

Other substantial facts were as follows: Potter lives at 12 Grimmauld Place. Potter works as Head Auror. Potter goes to bed by midnight. Potter wakes up at 7am. Potter shares custody of Teddy along with Andromeda Tonks. Draco makes sure to confirm that together they could be available an entire summer if selected for the peer exchange program and also scribbles this down on the application.

“He’s your cousin you know,” says Potter. “Your mother comes to visit us, well Dromeda and Teddy sometimes, and I noticed you haven’t come with her.”

The unasked question lingers in the air. _Why not?_

Truthfully, Draco doesn’t have one good reason. He does have many little reasons. In the year since he’d returned from England, his mother did invite him to see his Aunt Andromeda and Teddy on occasion but Draco always made various excuses about being busy with work. On one hand he knew Teddy was staying with Potter, and until recently, Draco had been avoiding Potter like the plague. On the other hand, Draco did not enjoy being around kids and their grabby, messy hands. He especially hated innocent but probing questions. How would he respond if Teddy asked if Draco had known his parents? _I insulted and constantly disrespected your father when he was a Professor, and I don’t know anything about your mother beyond the fact that my favorite aunt killed her._

Most people knew Bellatrix as insane, bloodthirsty, murderous, and downright evil.

All true.

But Draco also remembered his Aunt Bella playing hide-and-go-seek with him in the Manor hedges when he was young, and teaching him how to throw a jelly legs jinx on her. The Dark Arts had twisted her until she was almost unrecognizable beyond her pureblood pride, but Draco still struggled to forget the warmer side of Aunt Bella. Even towards the end, when she laughed while torturing muggles and sold her soul to the Dark Lord, she would reach out and grip Draco’s hand when she stalked menacingly past. _Stay Strong_.

He hasn’t been to her grave.

He hasn’t been to anyone’s grave yet. He hasn’t been to Professor Lupin’s. He hasn’t been Nymphadora’s. Draco knows he can’t meet their son yet until he does.  

Draco swallows and realizes Potter is waiting patiently for something, an explanation? It's unnerving how this mature version of Potter could just sit calmly in silence around Draco. Whenever Potter was around, Draco’s nerves were always on edge.

“I need to visit his parents first,” Draco says finally, staring down at the form.

“Oh,” says Potter. After a moment, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m not ready,” Draco says hastily, and clears his throat. What in Merlin’s name had possessed him to bare part of his soul to Potter? Now Potter’s biting his lip, just like he used to back in school.

“When you are ready I can –“ Potter starts to say.

“What wizarding activities would you be able to introduce to a muggleborn?” Draco interrupts, meeting Potter’s eyes directly in attempt to convey the message _I don’t want to talk about this_.

Surprisingly, Potter seems to receive it and responds with “quidditch” without missing a beat.

Draco learns that Potter plays pickup quidditch games when not practicing on the Auror team. Potter also knows the ins and outs of Diagon Alley and can help muggleborns buy school supplies. Draco warns him that Weasley’s Joke Shop is not a recommended stop, but this surprisingly earns him a delighted grin from Potter.

When Potter admits he doesn't know much about wizarding culture beyond that, he looks disappointed so Draco reassures him that Andromeda is more than knowledgeable by the program’s standards, and hands him a form and tells him that Andromeda needs to fill one out too.

Moving on, Draco learns that Potter is comfortable with muggle things and correctly identifies a rubber duck with its definition, a toy for children primarily used in the bath. Draco also learns - that Potter likes muggle clothing (note to self: let Pansy build him a new wardrobe), works out every week day, also likes pizza but doesn’t hate “veggies” like Draco does, and is free on weekends if he doesn’t a pressing Auror case, but usually spends that time with Teddy or Hermione and Ron- before Potter starts to get suspicious.

“Is that question really on there?” asks Potter, starting to read the form that Draco gave him to give to Andromeda. _Fuck_.

“And that concludes the application!” announces Draco, which thankfully stops Potter from inspecting the form any further.

If Draco actually hugged people when he wasn’t drunk, he would have hugged Hermione. Something on this form had to be useful for Project: Get into Potter’s Head-Auror-Pants. Again, likely not what Hermione had intended when she gave the task to Draco.

“Thanks for helping me… Draco,” says Potter, using his first name.

“Malfoy,” says Draco.

“What?” says Potter.

“Malfoy,” repeats Draco. “You always call me Malfoy, we call each other Malfoy and Potter.”

“Oh,” says Potter. “Can we use first names? It’s weird using last names, reminds me of when we were back in school. The only people I call by their last name are my Aurors, you know, like Auror Weasley.”

On habit, Draco sneers at the word Weasley, forgetting that Hermione said Potter asked if Draco had allergies. Potter laughs.

“You really are conditioned Draco!”

Draco sniffs. “Only when I’m caught off guard, _Harry_.”

Potter, no, _Harry_ , grins back at him. Draco fights back a blush, and starts to gather up his things, running through all his new Potter facts to parse out what would be useful, buying some more muggle clothes, practicing more quidditch before the first game, when Potter’s voice abruptly cuts through.

“- also fill out something to match them up.”

“What?” says Draco, realizing that he and Potter have said a lot of _what_ s to each other today. So their communication skills aren’t great, not a problem. Draco certainly didn’t plan on _talking_ with Potter during sex, not when there much better uses for their mouths. It takes a considerable amount of effort for him to not delve further into that thought before he realizes that Potter is looking at him expectantly.

Oops.

“What?” says Draco again, smirking, “I was distracted by your pants.”

Potter looks down at his pants, “what’s wrong with my pants?”

“Nothing,” says Draco, “I like them, your legs look good in them, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” repeats Potter, before muttering something that Draco doesn’t quite catch. Draco smiles his best innocent yet enchanting smile and wonders if, _hopes_ , this is the time that Potter’s going to bite. They are one a first name basis now after all. And Potter, no, _Harry_ has really nice muscular thighs. Draco almost sneaks another peak at them but Harry makes a weird half-grunt-half-sighing noise that startles Draco into making eye contact with him.

He really does have really really clear green eyes, and Draco finally understands why all those stupid gossips rags are always going on about Harry Potter’s eyes, especially since his vocabulary has taken a sudden plunge in the span of one second of staring into Harry Potter’s really really clear green eyes.

“While you were looking at _my pants_ I was saying that Teddy’s a really active kid, and I feel like he should be matched with someone that’s also active, and likes being outside, so if you’re getting all this information about his guardians shouldn’t there be something for the kids to fill out too?”

This, thankfully, jolts Draco out of the little trance he had fallen into. Not only is Harry physically very very attractive, with clear green eyes, a charming smile, broad shoulders, defined arms, and muscular thighs he’s also smart. In retrospect this idea seemed obvious. The peer exchange definitely should be matched by interest too – except this hadn’t crossed Draco or Hermione’s or any of their staff’s minds. Sure mixing someone that liked quidditch (Ron) with someone that liked books (Hermione) might broaden horizons for both, but as 11 year olds this was a sure-fire way to cause resentment or discomfort.

“And I know the focus is on getting integrating the kids into muggle and wizarding culture – but wouldn’t it be cool to do the same with the parents? I feel like there’s so much potential for parents to learn from each other and it could be an opportunity to address some of the prejudice and fear that’s still perpetuated since the war. This program seems like a great access point to reach muggle and wizarding families at the same time,” Harry adds, looking at Draco expectantly.

Draco feels his heart thump a bit harder. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. So brilliant Hermione would be devastated she didn’t come up with it herself. So Harry could provide useful input. So what. _So what?_ Harry knew words like prejudice and perpetuate, and _access point_. Harry was smart, smarter than Draco realized. Again, in retrospect this should have been obvious. Blaise and Pansy had certainly alluded to it. _Head Auror_. Harry was _Head Auror_. You didn’t become Hear Auror, commander of the most power force in the DMLE and succeed at it without having some smarts. Draco feels his heart thump harder and faster. _Fuck_. It was one thing to be just physically attracted to Harry Potter, and another thing to _actually fancy him_.

“That’s…a good idea,” says Draco, a bit hysterically. “I mean yes we should definitely match the children based on interests but of course we shouldn’t get the information until we approve the parent applications because wouldn’t that be devastating to have a child fill that out and get excited only for us to reject the application because the parents don’t have enough time or aren’t a good fit for the program? We’d have to come up with an algorithm, something like that muggle story about Goldilocks eating the soup and sleeping on the beds because we don’t want them to be too similar that breeds too much competition but if they don’t like any of the same things they’d be miserable the whole summer. Hermione and I are going to have to make some kind of metric to give the kids soon, maybe we can adapt one of those compatibility spells to our purposes, but only after the parent’s application is approved of course.” Merlin, Draco was rambling and repeating himself. Draco hadn’t rambled in ages.

“Right, of course,” says Harry, seemingly oblivious to Draco’s panic. “Did you say Goldilocks?”

“And yes, you’re right, there is so much potential I can’t believe Hermione and I didn’t think that far to include the parents, this could become a huge project. The kind of cornerstone, long-term project that both our departments could be working on for years. Working on muggle relations and preserving wizarding culture on two fronts – children and their parents. If we get this up and running in the next few years Hermione is going to get promoted and she’s going to accept it because she’ll finally feel like she can leave the department since it has a project that just needs upkeep rather than more innovation. She’s going to get promoted to Minister of Magic and we won’t be able to have work lunches anymore since she’ll be too busy running the entire Ministry.”

“So it’s a good idea,” says Harry, still seemingly oblivious to Draco’s panic.

“No. It’s not a good idea. It’s **THE IDEA** ,” seethes Draco, suddenly irrationally angry that Harry came up with the idea AND that his new-found friendship with Hermione had an ending in sight.

“I don’t think she’ll ever be too busy to have work lunches with you, she’s always talking about how much she enjoys working with you and how you have amazing taste in food,” says Harry, “to be honest it made Ron widely jealous until she said you were the genius gay best friend she always wanted but never had.”

This makes Draco feel warm and pleased and calms him down from the heights of hysteria that he had been rapidly climbing.

Harry lets out a chuckle. “Ron and I were pretty relieved to hear you were gay.”  

Suddenly there’s a flurry of movement as the cafeteria starts emptying out. Draco hadn’t realized they’d talked through the entire lunch hour. In fact, he hadn’t even heard Blaise or Pansy leave, but they must have since the table is entirely empty besides him and Harry.

“Although I said Hermione will probably always have time to have lunch with you, she’ll probably be too busy to have lunch _every day_ with you if she’s Minister of Magic, so we could have lunch instead?” asks Harry, smiling at Draco. “Today was fun, do you want to have lunch with me again?”

Draco’s previously racing heart skips a beat. Is Harry Potter asking him out? On a lunch date?

“Tomorrow?” asks Draco. He can hear the blood rushing to his ears and hopes he isn’t blushing.

Harry frowns and Draco’s heart sinks. “Tomorrow I have a quidditch game, what about Monday?” offers Harry, “I’m the boss so I could take a long lunch break and stop by your office to pick you up?”

Oh right. Tomorrow was the quidditch game, Aurors vs. Advocates. But that was Saturday and Sunday wasn't mentioned. So not a weekend date. _Not a date_. A work lunch. A co-workers having lunch on Monday during their lunch break. Right. Draco tries to tell himself he's not disappointed, he hadn't expected Harry to ask him out on a date anyways.

Draco composes himself to act professionally before replying. “Let’s just meet here in the cafeteria. I’ll fill Hermione in on what we talked about and work on some ideas on how to match the children and run those by you – you probably know best since you’re raising Teddy. Bring Andromeda’s application and I should be able to finalize all your paperwork too.”

Harry’s smile wavers a bit. “I was thinking we could go to one of those restaurants you like? Hermione said you have a favorite French place?”

Draco knows exactly what place he’s talking about. Pierre Victoire. Only a quick apparate to Oxford and back. He tries not to care that Harry knows his favorite place to eat.

“Okay, I’ll let them know we need a table for three instead of two. Hermione’s going to want us to pick your brain about your idea about a parent component so you should do some prep work too,” says Draco, “and it’s muggle so you’ll have to change first.”

“Three?” ask Harry, frowning. Ugh. Draco was hoping to avoid this.

“Fine, I’ll make a reservation for four and Weasley can come too,” grumbles Draco, “but tell him he needs to learn the correct order of forks to use and if he embarrasses me in front of my favorite waiter I’ll kill him.”

Harry seems to ponder this before sighing and nodding. “Okay, I guess…the four of us can have lunch Monday.”

Draco pushes over the large stack of applications to Harry and collects the rest of his things.

“Don’t forget to give these to your Aurors that are interested,” says Draco. “See ya,” adds Draco in an attempt to be casual.

“Until Monday!” says Harry, excitedly.  

One, Harry seemed oddly excited to go to Pierre Victoire, maybe Hermione had talked the place up. Two, Harry didn’t seem to know Draco was playing on the Advocates side against him.

“Tomorrow,” corrects Draco.

Harry smiles even wider. “You’re coming to see me play?”

Draco doesn’t bother to correct him this time and instead smiles mischievously. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's a bit oblivious. He's a complete fail at legilimency for a reason.


	5. The Game + The Pub Night

Team Advocates is pretty terrible. Luckily, this means Draco is easily accepted as a chaser. Although he was fairly decent at being Seeker at Hogwarts because it just required brief moments of agility outside of sitting high above everyone else looking for a small golden ball, there is no way Draco wants to go head to head again with Potter. He’s 0 for 6 based on their Hogwarts record, and losing _again_ would not impress Potter in the least. Keeper was out of the question, Draco certainly didn’t want to be blamed for letting in the quaffle a million times, which would surely happen seeing as how Draco had never played keeper in his life. Beater was also out of the question. Years of academic work and no interest in exercise beyond brisk walks around the nice French parks meant he doesn’t have the physical strength to carry a 20-pound wooden club and launch a bludger at anyone.

So chaser it was. Team Advocates actually wasn’t entirely hopeless. Marcus had apparently been chaser at Hogwarts, a couple years after Draco’s time of course. One of the werewolf liaisons made an imposing beater. Their seeker was a lean female that worked in the Department of Magical Creatures and had played at Beauxbatons. But everyone else was just there to have fun.

And probably ogle the very imposing Team Aurors.

Draco wasn’t bad if he had the ball in his hands, he still knew how to dodge and maneuver around players. The problem was he wasn’t very good at hand eye co-ordination. As seeker he just had to chase and reach for something. Ironically, as chaser he had to _catch_ the quaffle. He was not good at catching the quaffle. Something about the timing. Marcus tried to show him, many, many times. Draco still missed the ball 9 times out of 10.

Apparently Team Aurors decided to have a warm-up practice before the actual game. Draco knows this because Pansy, _that traitor_ , stops by his flat to tell him she’s going early and will be sitting on the Team Aurors side to cheer for Neville.

“I’ll still root for you too!” she says. Blaise is with her, and claps Draco on the back when they turn to go. “Good luck Draco, try not to fall off your broom,” he supplies helpfully.

Truthfully, Draco is a bit nervous. He hasn’t played a quidditch game since, well, Hogwarts. And he’d only just picked up flying again the past couple of weeks. Blaise had been joking, but Draco is actually a little worried he might fall off his broom. _Maybe Harry will catch me_. Which is a nice thought, until Draco decides it’s too embarrassing to even ponder. Especially since he’d already hung on to Harry’s back for dear life years and years ago.

Their team meets in the locker room, and there’s no rousing pre-game speech besides, “let’s just have fun and try not to lose too badly or get hurt before next week’s game.”

Hermione bursts in right before they file out onto the pitch. “Draco! You’re playing? Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, giving him a warm hug, “Good luck! Harry said you were coming to watch, so I was looking around for you until Pansy told me you were actually playing.”

“It was a last minute decision,” Draco responds, pleased that Harry had mentioned him to Hermione.

“I’m cheering for our team since you’re playing, although Ron will probably have a fit. Maybe he’ll even let in a few quaffles,” says Hermione mischievously. “You guys should attack strong right at the beginning, I’m sure I can knock Ron off his game for a bit if I cheer really loudly for you guys.”

Team Advocates chuckles good-naturedly. Marcus agrees, “It would be nice to finally score against them.”

Hermione pumps her fist into the air, “Count on me!”  Draco smiles. How Slytherin of her.

Hermione leaves and Team Advocates steps into the bright sunlight. Draco sees that Team Aurors have already taken their positions, but he can’t spot Harry. Probably flying a bit higher than the rest of his team.

“DRACO?”

Ah, there’s Harry.

“MALFOY?”

Ah, there’s Weasley.

Draco gives a small wave as he mounts his broom and takes his position near the center across from an Auror he doesn’t recognize. Harry flies down until they’re side by side.

“You’re playing? I didn’t know you were playing. Hermione said you weren’t really into quidditch,” Harry is saying while the rest of his team is shouting at him.

“Harry what are you doing get back to your position.”

“Harry you’re on the wrong side.”

“HARRY KNOCK HIM OFF HIS BROOM.” That was Weasley.

“RON STOP IT.” That was Hermione.

“I’m don’t really play quidditch much, but I uh, decided to try it,” answers Draco, trying not to admire the way the leather quidditch gear is hugging Harry in _all the right places_.

“It’ll be just like old times, good luck!” Harry says good naturedly, flying back to his position.

Team Auror is looking at him suspiciously, especially since Weasley has been loudly listing all of his past quidditch crimes from Hogwarts. “Be careful around him, he’s sneaky and cheats all the time. Keep your eye on him, he’s really fast. He feints left all the time and then swoops under you before you realize and then he’ll knock you off your broom.”

Marcus flies up alongside him, “Seems like you had quite a reputation back in the day, eh Draco.”

Draco glowers at him, “Back in the day when I actually played quidditch you mean, you’ve seen me play, it’s been years, I can’t do half the things he thinks I can.”

Marcus shrugs, “They don’t know that yet. Switch with me…why don’t you start in the center?”

Draco’s presence throws Team Auror’s center chaser off just enough for Draco to catch the quaffle that’s tossed up.

It should have been an easy catch, the ball had just gone straight up and was just coming straight down. It was one of the few catches Draco could do in practice.

So Draco does catch the ball, briefly.

But then it slips from his hands, hits the front of his broom, and tumbles down to the pitch below. Honestly, Draco is so shocked that he dropped the ball he doesn’t even react, even as members from both teams’ stream past him to catch the ball from below.

“NICE!” Draco hears Blaise call from the stands.

Ignoring the fact there are children watching, Draco flips him off.

Team Aurors score. And score again. And score again. And after Draco misses catching the quaffle two more times, Team Aurors stops paying him much attention.

“You suck Draco,” Weasley calls out.

Harry flies past him sometimes, grinning. “Having fun Malfoy?” It’s quite captivating, actually, since there’s no hint of malice just a flash of a smile and teasing lilt in his eyes. Draco doesn’t want to be the worst player on Team Advocates, especially since his original goal was to establish himself as at least a little bit athletic in Harry’s eyes, so Draco resolves to try a bit harder. Team Advocates is struggling to possess the quaffle for any amount of time. So after Team Aurors scores for the fourth time, Draco flies alongside Marcus and motions for him to just hand him the ball. Draco tucks the ball securely in the crook of his elbow, not relying on his slippery hands, and speeds across to the other side of the pitch.

Team Aurors is caught off guard, and are just slow enough to realize what he’s trying to do, score not pass, that he’s able to make it all the way to Ron without much resistance.

“DRACO YOU CAN DO IT! THROW IT AT THE MIDDLE HOOP, RON LETS THOSE IN THE MOST!” Hermione is screaming from the stands. Weasley flushes bright red, and Draco sees him edge toward the middle hoop. Draco throws it into the right hoop.

It goes in.

Draco smirks at Weasley, “Better luck next time!”

It’s the first time Team Advocates has ever scored against Team Aurors. Marcus gets the ball, and again, Hermione cheers against her husband, “MARCUS YOU CAN DO IT! GO ADVOCATES! AURORS SUCK!" Weasley falters and misses the block. Team Advocates score again. Draco can hear Harry laughing from above them, he glances up and sees Harry watching him.

“Did you put her up to that? She’s never cheered against Ron. He’s probably losing his mind,” says Harry as he flies lazy circles around Draco’s head.

Draco shakes his head admiring the view, “She decided on her own, probably kept that in her back pocket for years.”

Harry laughs, and runs his hands through his long dark strands. Draco fights the urge to reach out and touch them too when Harry passes close by him. “I better get to work catching that snitch, at the rate this is going you guys might actually catch up,” says Harry, leaving to circle the entire quidditch pitch again. Draco watches as Harry flies off and admires his form. Harry flies effortlessly, like he was made for it. There’s no hesitancy when he makes a sharp turn, or when he suddenly swoops up or down to investigate little flashes of light. Harry cuts quite an imposing figure when they’re on the ground, but here up in the air the Golden Boy actually looks elegant.

Harry’s been pretty nice to him all afternoon too. Besides asking Draco whether he was having fun, sometimes Harry would fly by and ask if he was okay.

“You’re clutching that broom pretty hard, are you okay?”

“You almost flew into that post, are you okay?”

Depending on the way those questions were asked, Draco could have taken offense but Harry actually sounded concerned.

The game goes on for another hour, and Team Advocates hasn’t scored again. Team Auror is easily scoring points but no one seems frustrated or particularly competitive. Draco admits he is having a little bit of fun, even though he misses his seventh attempt to catch another quaffle. Longbottom has taken to flying close by him, catching the quaffles that Draco inevitably misses.

“I’m tired,” Draco finally mutters. “Why haven’t either of the seekers caught the snitch.”

Longbottom is close enough to hear him and decides to announce this to the field, “Malfoy’s tired and wants to know why the seekers haven’t caught the snitch, you hear that Harry?”

Malfoy flushes. He hadn’t meant to insult Harry, especially since he’d been pretty nice to him all afternoon.

“Shut up Neville,” answers Harry, who takes off. Apparently Neville appropriately motivates Harry because the game ends in about 5 minutes. Harry catches the snitch. Team Aurors win. Typical

As Team Advocates head back together to their lockers, many of the members throw their arms around Draco’s shoulders and give him a hearty pat on the back.

“Great game today! Good job on scoring.”

“Don’t worry about dropping the ball, you did a hell of a job distracting Harry.”

“Harry would stop flying whenever you were going for the ball to watch.”

“I swear by the end everyone was holding their breath to see if you would finally catch the quaffle, good times Malfoy.”

Draco is a little embarrassed his nonexistent chaser skills attracted so much attention, but is happy to hear that Harry was at least watching him play sometimes. Draco’s muscles are very sore, so he decides to take a very long hot shower – but promptly shifts to cold water when his thoughts start taking a dangerous turn toward Harry flying today. He’s still toweling his hair dry when he steps out of the lockers and sees his friends sitting outside the entrance.

Were they waiting for him? Draco suddenly feels very warm; despite the ice cold shower he’d just stepped out of. There’s Blaise and Luna, heads bent together over something in the grass she’s point out. Longbottom is laughing at something Pansy is saying. Note to self: needed to get an update from Pansy on how that was going. And Hermione is sitting on the grass, watching Harry and Weasley toss a quaffle back and forth.

How did the two of them still have that much energy?

Harry spots him first, and pelts the quaffle dangerously fast at Weasley's head before jogging over. “There you are. I almost went in to see what was keeping you!”

Draco is very very relieved he decided against staying in the hot shower and letting his thoughts wander. Harry could have stepped in on him, well… Draco feels himself blushing and shakes himself out of it.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you guys were waiting, I was just…” Draco motions to his hair, not really sure what kind of excuse he was trying to make.

Harry actually reach out flicks one Draco’s still wet strands. “Of course we waited, we’re headed to the post-game bar, you’re coming right?”

Harry just flicked Draco’s hair.

Draco sees Weasley starting to approach them, but Hermione spins her husband and around and pushes him toward the designated apparition point across the street.

“Draco’s here guys, let’s head out,” Hermione calls out. Everyone gets up to go, and Draco eyes the heavy bag at his feet warily. He starts to heft it onto his shoulder, but Harry takes it from him and throws it over his own shoulder along with his own bag.

“I got it,” says Harry, “let’s go.”

“That’s – I can shrink and carry it myself” Draco starts to say, but Harry shakes his head, “Nah that’s how us wizards lose things all the time, sometimes it’s just better to do things the muggle way.” Draco looks at Harry carrying his bag and agrees, “Ok.”

Since Harry’s still carrying his bag when they get to the bar, when Harry takes a seat at a table Draco decides it isn’t weird to sit next to him, instead of next to Hermione who’s sitting across from him and next to Weasley. Unfortunately, this means whenever he talks to Hermione, he’ll also have to deal with looking at Weasley’s stupid face. But sitting next to Harry was worth it, probably.

Pansy drops into the seat next to Draco, and pulls Longbottom down next to her. Longbottom is blushing furiously and Draco’s just about to ask how that’s going when Pansy jabs him in the side, points her chin at Harry, and whispers “plan’s going well hm?”

Thankfully Harry is distracted by some fans that have clambered over to congratulate him on catching the snitch and doesn’t hear.

Hermione, unfortunately does.

“What plan?” she asks, leaning forward.

Uh Oh.

Pansy actually points at Draco and makes the obscene gesture of inserting her pointer finger into a hole that her other hand makes, and then points at Harry. Draco tries to stop her, but Pansy easily fends him off. Draco is now completely humiliated, and knows he’s bright red. Hermione’s eyes grow impossibly wide.

“Oh,” Hermione says, and then actually covers her mouth with her hand, “Oh my god no way.”

Is she annoyed? Is she mad? Is she embarrassed? Is she –

Hermione gives him a long look before making the face that Draco recognized as her “I made up my mind” face.

Hermione gives him a thumbs up and Pansy elbows him enthusiastically.

“Good luck. Not that you need it,” says Hermione. _What does that mean?_

Of course this is the moment, when Draco is still horribly red and freaking out that Hermione has just learned about his crush on Harry Potter and _encouraging it_ , that Harry turns his attention back to Draco.

Well, Harry places his hand on Draco’s forehead. _Is Harry touching my face?_

“You don’t look so good, are you okay?” Harry asks.

“I’m FINE!” Draco bites out hysterically, jerking away. “What does everyone want to drink, I’m buying!”

The whole table cheers, and Draco clambers out of his seat to get the first round. By the time he gets back, he’s slightly more calm and able to hand Harry his beer without shaking.

And they talk. They talk so much that even as it gets louder and louder around them, and Pansy’s probably on her fourth or fifth drink, both of them are still on their first. They talk about after the war, they talk about why Harry joined the Aurors, they talk about Draco’s time in France. They talk about Andromeda and Teddy, and they talk about Grimmauld Place. They talk about Draco’s half-muggle half-wizarding flat and Draco’s just about to tell him that he’s been thinking about getting an owl when a very drunk Marcus stumbles between them.

“Draco! Let’s dance,” Marcus says, interrupting.

Draco likes dancing, but he doesn’t like Marcus, at least not in that way. Draco takes a look at Harry, who’s looking at Marcus with a fairly neutral expression. Marcus is attractive, admittedly, and Draco had flirted innocently with him on occasion when they had first met. Since they’d started to work more closely together, Draco had started acting more professional since he was essentially, kind of his boss. Marcus had never shown he was interested before, and Draco hadn’t given much thought to him recently. Especially since Draco had started noticing Harry. To be honest, almost everyone paled in comparison to Harry.

“Uh, I’m kind of tired from the game,” says Draco, inching back a little.

Marcus leans forward, and tugs at Draco’s now dry hair. The ends have started to curl a bit, and Marcus comments on it, “Pretty.”

It’s a compliment and earnestly given so Draco can’t help but blush a bit, but still Draco carefully tells Marcus he isn’t interested – not wanting to offend his coworker that currently smells very strongly of whiskey. Unexpectedly, Marcus leans down as if to kiss him and Draco freezes up entirely. Harry’s arm reaches out and pushes Marcus back. There’s also a tremor of magic that emanates from Harry quickly, and Marcus’s hands are suddenly rubbing at his temples, eyes blinking a drunken haze away.

Draco’s a bit disoriented when he realizes what just happened. Had Harry just casted a spell? He looks at Harry’s hands, no wand to be seen, and then looks back at Marcus, who’s cursing about a headache.

_Did Harry just cast a wandless sobriety spell?_

“I think you might have had too much to drink,” says Harry tightly to Marcus.

Marcus looks up, and his eyes widen as he seems to remember the past few moments. “Shit, yeah. Sorry Draco, I didn’t mean to, I know we’re not like that,” Marcus stammers out. “I had a lot of fun today, and I just got carried away.”

“No harm, no foul.” Draco tries to say casually, thinking back to the post-game locker room talk. Marcus had been particularly handsy with him but Draco hadn’t thought to say anything, brushing it off as typical teammate bonding. But he can see why Marcus might have thought Draco would be interested tonight.

Marcus gives him a sheepish grin, “We’re cool right, boss?”

Draco nods, glad the boundaries are re-established. Marcus gives Harry an awkward nod before turning back to the crowd behind them.

“You’re not mad at him?” asks Harry.

Draco shakes his head, “I think he might have misunderstood something, earlier, so it’s not entirely his fault.”

“What happened?” asks Harry.

“Nothing, just some friendly bantering after the game, I thought it was just teammate bonding that kind of thing,” answers Draco, nervously downing the rest of his first drink.

Harry looks deep in thought.

“Is that what this is?” Harry finally asks. Draco doesn’t really understand what he’s asking and decides to just peer down at his empty glass.

Maybe it was time to get drunk.

“Draco, I mean this. Right now. Am I misunderstanding this too,” Harry motions between them, “or is this just teammate bonding to you?”

Draco takes a minute to process this. _No way_. Is this Harry implying that he’s interested in Draco? Draco remembers Hermione’s words from earlier, “not that you need it” and decides to take a leap of faith.

“If you’re asking whether I’d let you kiss me, the answer is yes,” says Draco, a bit nervously. Harry’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat.

“I think we should go on a real date first,” says Harry, and adds “today doesn’t count because someone else tried to kiss you first,” a bit darkly, and also adds “and Monday doesn’t count because you invited Hermione and Ron along.”

Oh. Ohhhhhh. So Harry had been asking him out on a lunch date. Now that Draco’s confirmed Harry Potter is indeed considering kissing him, and potentially _date_ him, but that he’s not getting said kiss tonight, well, he’s a bit annoyed.

“Right, you’re not _that_ attracted to me because I was so bad at quidditch today,” sighs Draco.

Harry sputters, “that’s – what, that's not even remotely true.”

“I know you have a thing for professional athletes, I remember Weasley saying so. And that you don’t particularly care for blondes.” Draco lifts a couple strands and peers at them. “Am I going to have to die my hair brown to get you to kiss me, because I absolutely refuse.”

“No! I love your hair! And that, none of that’s true,” Harry says adamantly. “Don’t listen to anything Ron says, he has widely incorrect notions about my type ever since I first told him I was gay. He wasn’t trying to be offensive or anything but asked if I thought he was attractive, and I might have been refused too much because then he thought I was implying he was really ugly so I had to lie and say he just isn’t my type because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Draco considers this and compares it to everything he knows about Weasley, and realizes this makes perfect sense. Stupid Weasley.

“So we’re not kissing today?” ask Draco, a bit disappointed.

Harry’s usually bright green eyes darken. “Um - ”

“Because I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day. You were pretty distracting flying around all over like you owned the place,” says Draco.

“ _I was distracting?_ You were a hot mess today I honestly thought you were going to fall off your broom half the game,” responds Harry.

“So I’m right, we’re not kissing today because I was so bad at quidditch,” says Draco triumphantly.

“Did you just hear what I said? I said you were _distracting me too_ ,” Harry says a bit exasperatedly.  

“Oh, _distracted in a good way_?” Draco teases, deciding that bantering with Harry is pretty fun.

Harry glares at him. “If not being able to concentrate on the game because I kept thinking about you is _distracted in a good way_ then yes, in a good way.”

This makes Draco feel positively giddy. So he follows his gut and places a quick, innocent, peck on Harry’s very inviting lips. Who said he had to wait around for Harry to decide when they should kiss first? Draco does what he wants.

Draco’s starting to pull away when he feels Harrys hands around his waist, holding him in place. Harrys not smiling anymore. If anything, he’s positively smoldering at him. Harry’s lips are pressed in a very thin line. Draco feels his heart thump heavily against his rib cage, almost like it’s going to beat out his chest. _Fuck, Harry has a very intense gaze_.

“I think we should get some air” says Harry finally, “outside.” Draco nods, and Harry hauls Draco easily onto his feet.

Harry’s fingers are wrapped loosely around Draco’s wrist as he leads them through the crowd towards the exit. Draco knows it’s an out when he feels the roughness of Harry’s fingertips ghosting the back of his hand. _Come with me_ and _but only if you want to_. Oh does Draco want to. Draco really wants to. Neither of them are going to be able to chalk this up to intoxication. They’d been together all night. Both have only had one drink.

It’s dark out when they stumble out of the bar, and Harry takes one look at him before pressing Draco against the brick wall of the bar. Immediately, Draco tangles his fingers into Harry’s hair. He’d wanted to run his hands through Harry’s hair the entire game. Despite looking unruly, the strands are actually soft and silky, slipping easily between Draco’s fingers. Harry’s kissing, no, devouring his neck. Harry’s muscled frame is pressed tightly up against Draco’s body, now firmly trapping him against the wall.

Draco let out a moan when Harry nips gently at his collarbone, and feels his legs grow weak beneath him. His legs, already tired from gripping a broom the entire game, are rapidly losing all strength as Harry begins to move his kisses upward, moving closer to Draco’s lips. Draco’s eagerly anticipating lips. Harry is a good head taller than him, so when Draco starts slipping down when his legs give out, Harry makes a sound of disappointment but then his hands find Draco’s waist again and lift him clear off the ground so they’re face to face. Harry then, finally, kisses him fiercely, and Draco’s legs wrap instinctively around Harry’s waist as Harry’s tongue slips into his mouth.

It’s hot. It’s too hot. Draco’s getting hard and he can barely breathe. He lets his fingers trail innocently along Harry’s chest before deciding to roughly yank Harry’s head back, which subsequently frees up his lips to kiss along Harry’s sharp jaw line and lick the curve of his neck. Harry gasps.

“Fuck. Malfoy.”

Draco smirks. He remembers back in school, when it was just as dark and those same exact words came angrily from Harry’s lips.

Same words. Different sentiment.

Draco decides he likes hearing them this way much better.

A rush of noise distracts him momentarily, the sound of the bar doors opening and the clinking of glasses from inside stream through the night air. Familiar voices break through the quiet air.

“I saw them come out this way” Draco hears Blaise say.

Suddenly Draco feels himself lurch into the unknown, but then just as suddenly, he finds himself in a doorway.

 _Fucking Hell_.

Did Harry just apparate them? Both of them? _Wandlessly?_ Draco releases Harry’s hair roughly, and ignores the ouch that Harry lets out. Draco takes a look around.

 _“Did you just fucking wandlessly apparate both of us to the doorway of your bedroom?”_ asks Draco in disbelief.

Harry takes a quick glance around.

“Uh, welcome to Grimmauld Place?”

Draco decides to yank Harry’s hair again.

“That’s extremely dangerous, you can’t go around wandlessly apparating people!” shrieks Draco.

“Ouch! Fuck, stop doing that Draco. I just didn’t want to get interrupted and this was the first thing at popped into my mind.”

Draco’s legs are still wrapped around Harry’s waist.

And just because Harry told him stop, he does it again and yanks Harry’s hair and delights when he hears Harry yelp in pain.

“And why are we outside your bedroom, you’re being really presumptuous,” accuses Draco, although he knows he’s lying through his teeth. He’s been thinking about getting Harry to bed for _weeks_.

Harry, at least, looks apologetic and takes a step away from the bedroom doorway, Draco’s legs _still_ wrapped around his waist. “Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking when I apparated, we should just go to the living room - ”

“Seeing as you’ve gone through the trouble, let’s just go to your bed,” interrupts Draco. Draco starts to eagerly lift the hem of Harry’s shirt. _Shirt off. Shirt off right now_ is all Draco can think about it. And he can just see the start of a very sexy V line below some very nice ab muscles when a quiet and sleepy voice echoes down the hall.

“Harry?”

Draco’s legs are suddenly not wrapped around Harry’s waist. Draco’s ass however, meets the hard wood floor in a very unwelcome way.

“OW,” Draco yelps.

“OH MY GOD TEDDY,” says Harry.

 _Teddy? Shit_.

Draco scrambles into the bedroom on his hands and knees and slams the door shut. He sits with his back against the door. Not ready. Not ready at all to meet his cousin. Draco knows he’s being a complete coward, but there’s so much he has to do first.

Draco can’t make out what they’re saying behind the door, but he’s surprised that Harry makes no attempt to open the door. He hears little footsteps lead away from the door, before there’s a tentative knock.

“Draco? Teddy’s gone back to bed, you can open the door.”

Draco opens the door on a crack, still sitting on the floor.

Harry looks down at him.

“I’m really, really sorry about that. I totally forgot Andromeda and Teddy were staying the night, they aren’t usually here on Saturday nights.”

Draco peers around the door and doesn’t see anyone, so opens the door wider so Harry can slip in. Harry takes a seat next to him on the floor.  

“Andromeda’s here too? Do you think she heard us?”

Harry shakes his head, “No. She could sleep through an Earthquake.”

They sit there for a moment. Draco knows Harry is probably thinking the same thing. Tonight was… a total bust. There was no way Draco was going to climb into bed with Harry under the same roof as his mother’s sister and a cousin he still hadn’t met.

“I think… I should go,” Draco says finally.

“We have a guest room, you could stay and maybe meet Teddy tomorrow morning?” asks Harry hopefully. Draco’s heart sinks.

“I’m not ready,” says Draco, “I need to see his parents first.”

“Okay,” says Harry, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Last time Harry had offered, Draco hadn’t even considered the possibility of taking Harry with him. But now? After tonight? Draco actually considers it. And before he can change his mind, says “Okay.”

“Tomorrow,” says Harry, “We should go tomorrow.”

“I think I should go home,” says Draco.

Harry waits, as if he knows that’s not all Draco has to say.

“I think I should go home,” repeats Draco, “and you should come get me tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” says Harry.

“Okay,” says Draco.

Draco tells Harry the address to his flat, and asks if Harry’s free at 10am. He is. Harry leads him quietly to floo, and just after Draco grabs a handful of powder and is about to say his address – Harry leans forward and gives him a soft kiss.

Draco almost chokes out the wrong address, and is relieved when he finds himself in his living room. He’s torn between feeling pleased that Harry had thought to kiss him goodbye and furious that Harry seemed to enjoy making travel extremely dangerous.  


	6. Harry's Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief look into Harry's POV (mostly before Draco's POV started).

There’s a lot of work to be done on a string of high-profile thefts so Harry has kept his Aurors working after hours. As he weaves through them, checking up on their progress he hears them discussing running into Malfoy.

Narcissa Malfoy? What would she be doing at the ministry?

But then he realizes they’re talking about someone male, but it couldn’t be Lucius – who’d passed away recently. Harry had gone with Andromeda to his funeral. She hadn’t asked him to go, but Harry knew that she wanted to be there to support her sister, and would probably need some support of her own. Draco Malfoy had been conspicuously absent. Narcissa rarely spoke about her son beyond the occasional “he’s doing well in France” and “he’s published another manuscript” whenever Andromeda asked, but Harry knew Narcissa was proud and happy for her son, from the way her eyes shined and her smile relaxed whenever she did bring him up.

Last he’d heard he was finishing up a Mastery in Magical History with no plans to return.

Harry can’t help but ask anyways, “Draco Malfoy?”

Aurors Goldstein and Auror Davies nod their heads furiously.

“Can you believe it, we haven’t seen him since school – and there he was charging through the ministry foyer pissed off about something,” says Goldstein.

“You sure it was him?” Harry asks, “Maybe somebody that looks like him?”

“No, it was definitely him. All blonde and waiflike.”

“Yeah he always had distinctive features, definitely him.”

So Draco Malfoy was back in England. Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether this was a permanent or temporary thing. But before he could give it more thought, one of his Aurors was calling over to him. She’d found something.

* * *

Sunday night dinner at Hermione and Ron’s was going a bit strangely. Hermione had made Ron his favorite steak and Harry his favorite treacle tart. She wasn’t talking much about her work or sneakily trying to get them to spill confidential information on cases like usual. Instead she would start to say something, trail off, and then mutter something to herself. Hermione was acting strangely enough that even Ron had noticed.

Ron looked at him. _You have any idea what’s going on?_

Harry looked at Ron. _No fucking clue._

Ron looked at him. _Should we just ask?_

Harry looked at Ron. _I think we should wait._

Hermione stood up.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. _Here we go._

“I have an announcement!” announced Hermione.

“You’re pregnant,” supplies Ron, eagerly leaning forward. Harry groans. Ron no. Hermione would have told Ron first not when Harry was here. What was his best friend thinking?

Surprisingly Hermione doesn’t get mad. “No that’s not it.”

“You’re joining the aurors,” tries Ron again.

Surprisingly, Hermione still doesn’t get mad. “No that’s not it.”

Harry puts a hand on Ron’s shoulder. _Shut up and let her talk_.

Hermione takes a deep breath. “Okay you both have to promise not to get mad. Or freak out. Or go storming out to confront him. This is a very important work relationship that I’ve cultivated and only recently have we become friends, and it’s very important to me that neither of you ruin it.”

What in hell was she talking about? What work relationship, what new friend? Harry glances over at Ron, whose face is rapidly draining of color. So Ron knew what she was talking about. Harry glances back at Hermione who is biting her lip nervously.

“Work relationships – you can’t mean – are you talking about – there’s no way – ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT DRACO MALFOY?” sputters Ron.

_What?_

Hermione hold up both her hands. “Wait, let me explain”

Harry puts a hand on Ron’s increasingly tense shoulder. _Let her explain_.

“I know I complained about him to you the first day he got thrown into my office, but he’s changed! He has all these great ideas for his department – Harry he’s head of the Department of Wizarding Culture Preservation, sorry I didn’t tell you but I thought you’d tell Ron and then I thought the both of you would come and cause a big fuss. I came up with that name by the way and he actually took my advice, _can you believe it_ – and he’s helped me out on my projects too. He’s actually a brilliant person, very smart, we have a lot of common interests, did you know he has a Mastery in Magical History? He also edited a chapter for the next edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ , isn’t that _amazing_?”

Harry is speechless. Malfoy was thrown into Hermione’s office? When? Malfoy was head of his own department at the Ministry? What?

It’s in this moment Harry decides he needs to expand his usual narrow focus from all things Auror-related to more of the Ministry. He was Head Auror for Merlin’s sake. How could he have missed the fact that Draco Malfoy was head of a Ministry Department he had never heard of? And that he was working, not just working, but working closely, with one of his best friends and Harry hadn’t even known.

Hermione and Ron were bickering in their usual manner, but Harry knew Hermione wasn’t going to change her mind. She’d announced they were friends and had said Malfoy had changed, in a way that reflected she’s already made up her mind. Hermione was _the cleverest and smartest_ person Harry knew. Which meant if Malfoy had any ulterior motives, she would have figured them out.

“Okay, just be careful, and let me know if I need to arrest him or something like that,” says Harry, trying to joke and lighten up the increasingly tense mood across the table.

Hermione looks at him gratefully.

Ron, on the other hand, nods seriously. “Yeah Hermione, you tell me if I need to beat him up.”

Hermione actually giggles at this. “Draco’s a bit of a shut-in, I could _easily_ beat him up myself.”

Ron looks horrified.

Although Harry trusts Hermione, his fingers itch to do some of his own investigation. “I’m going to head back to the office to get some work done before my meeting with the Minister tomorrow.” He grabs the plate of treacle tart, “Can I take this Sorry-I’m-friends-with-Malfoy dessert with me?”

Hermione looks at him knowingly. “Just let me know what you find, and you can have your Malfoy dessert.”

Harry looks down at his favorite treacle tart that has suddenly been renamed Malfoy dessert.

* * *

Everything comes up clean. Everyone Malfoy worked with in France _adores_ him, “we were very sad to see him go.” And Hermione always had something Malfoy related to say.

“Draco showed me this place that serves each bite of food on its own spoon.”

“Draco convinced the committee to double my budget for this project!”

“Draco also thinks all the Ministry Departments should be audited regularly.”

Overall it was unnerving to know _so much_ about Malfoy without having spoken to him at all. Whenever Harry and Ron went to Hermione’s office, Malfoy pointedly chose to ignore them. Often Malfoy would just close his office door the moment they passed into view. Sometimes Malfoy would be in Hermione’s side of the hall, but then he’d immediately start talking animatedly to the staff members there.

Once, Harry caught Draco pulling some files alone in the corner of Hermione’s office but had only spoken half of Malfoy’s name before the blond had launched himself at Hermione’s secretary.

“April! I’m going to buy some coffee. You’ve been working really hard today can I buy you something too?”

The girl had blushed and nodded, “Whatever you’re having, Draco!”

“Do you think they’re dating,” Ron had whispered conspiratorially to him.  Harry didn’t think they were, but Ron refused to drop the thought and had asked Hermione.

She promptly laughed loudly in their faces.

Another time, Harry finally made eye contact with Malfoy, only for Malfoy to scrunch his nose and look away immediately.

 _Cute. So cute._ _Dammit._

* * *

Harry knew Ron was getting increasingly irritated that Hermione was now having lunch almost daily with Malfoy. When Harry pointed out that Ron saw Hermione every morning, every night, and every weekend – Ron glowered at him.

“You don’t think Malfoy has a thing for Hermione do you?” asks Ron one day, and adds “He’s always buying her lunch.”

Harry responds no, and even if Malfoy did, it wasn’t like Hermione would ever reciprocate. Ron doesn’t respond, but Harry can tell it’s still bothering him so he pats his best friend on the back reassuringly.

...perhaps Harry should have done more.

During a Sunday night dinner, Ron drags him into the accusation.

“Harry and I think Malfoy has a thing for you! We think you shouldn’t be having lunch with him all the time!” Ron says, pointing accusingly at his wife.

Hermione looks baffled and looks at Harry, who decides his best course of action is to just shrug in response. Picking sides in Hermione vs. Ron disputes was an impossible choice (even though Hermione was usually right).

“Okay, first of all Malfoy does not have a _thing_ for me,” says Hermione, “because he _likes men_.”

Harry and Ron gape at her.

“And second of all I like having lunch with him because we have similar interests! You two like the same things, quidditch and trying George’s joke prototypes and complaining about your new Auror recruits which is fun to talk about sometimes. But Draco and I actually read the same books, we like the same foods, we work on the same projects, and even though he can act a bit entitled or snobby from time to time, if I tell him to stop he usually does,” says Hermione, “I’m learning a lot about wizarding history and culture from him, neither of which either of you know anything about.” 

Ron looks thoroughly chastened. Harry is intrigued. It’s one thing for Hermione to be friends with Draco Malfoy – Hermione has lots of “friends” at the Ministry, colleagues, work connections, passing acquaintances, etc. but her respect _and_ admiration is very rarely earned. Something Draco Malfoy, apparently, has earned. Harry begins to wonder if somehow Malfoy has earned a little bit of Harry's respect and admiration (which Harry is baffled by, they haven't even spoken).

Ron apologizes for being selfish and Hermione apologizes for making him jealous (which Ron adamantly refuses, but Hermione and Harry know better) and the two make up. A bit too intensely, so Harry carefully steps away from the table and apparates away.

* * *

 

After another of Harry’s attempts to engage Malfoy in conversation, because Harry really wants to understand _why_ Hermione respects and admires him, ends abruptly with Malfoy dropping his quill on the desk of some pretentious looking guy named Marcus (and some flirtatious “oh my, I’m sorry for getting ink on your work” and “oh no problem at all, here’s your pen” and “oh my, I dropped it again” is exchanged leading to Malfoy bending over dangerously close to Marcus), Harry decides to ask Hermione if she knows why Malfoy doesn’t ever speak with him.

“I don’t think he likes you or Ron very much,” is her answer, “whenever I talk about either of you, Draco gets this weird look and always changes the subject.” She narrows her eyes at Harry. “Why do you want to know?”

Harry coughs. “Since you guys are good friends, shouldn’t, uh, Ron and I get to know him?”

Hermione considers this and nods. “You’re right, I’ll talk to him about it!”

Harry leaves, satisfied.

A couple weeks later, Ron comes into his office the next morning and throws himself into the chair on the other side of Harry’s desk.

“Can you believe Hermione brought Malfoy home for dinner last night? It was a complete disaster, but, uh, I see why Hermione likes him so much. They really get along. You should hear them talk about their work it’s crazy they just babble nonstop. He’s still a complete snob you know, and tried to eat all of my mother’s pie,” says Ron. Ron frowns. “He’s really not _as bad_ as I thought.”

Harry suddenly feels a wave of frustration. Ron has hung out with Malfoy, before Harry? And then Harry is baffled because why does he even care.  _Just curious_ he tells himself,  _I'm just curious_. 

* * *

 

The next time they stop by Hermione’s office and she’s out, Ron casually leaves her a message with Malfoy. Who just nods and shoos him out.

Malfoy doesn’t look at Harry. Malfoy does look at Ron.

Dammit.

* * *

 

It comes as a surprise when one day Malfoy invites the both of them into his office, and _smiles_ in a very enticing way, directly at Harry. Malfoy then turns his sharp silver eyes to look directly at him, licks his very pink lips, and says…

_“Potter, I like your uniform.”_

It’s in this moment, when Harry’s mouth goes dry, and his cock twitches _inappropriately_ in interest that Harry Potter realizes he’s in trouble. Harry struggles to keep himself relaxed through years of Auror interrogation training as he notices lots of things simultaneous. Malfoy's pale skin. Delicate wrists and delicate fingers clutching a quill. A sharp collarbone peeking out from under his robes. An expressive mouth, slightly parted right now, and _oh god_  Malfoy's tongue running along the base of his teeth like he's pondering something. 

Malfoy’s been on the edge of his thoughts for months, kind of like an abstract concept Harry hasn't been able to really pin down. But here, Harry is finally sitting across from an intriguing (and wildly enticing) man that has just complimented his uniform and Harry has no idea why. Is it a jab at his position? Is he trying to flirt? Does Malfoy simply like his uniform and really has nothing else to say to Harry? Harry's magic is twitching just at his fingertips (he could just take a peek, just take a small little peek to see what Malfoy's thinking, but Harry knows this is wrong and restrains himself).

Malfoy, unlike most people Harry interacted with, didn't seem impressed that Harry had defeated Voldemort, didn’t hang on to Harry’s every word - instead, actively avoided listening to anything Harry said - and in fact up until today had showed zero interest in any interaction with Harry.

 _Why?_  

Malfoy was also apparently intelligent (Hermione said so, “a total genius”), a loyal friend (Blaise said so, “more than I was, better than I deserve”), compassionate (Luna said so, “sat with me when I was locked up in the manor”), and not bad (Ron said so, “but not good either,” which coming from Malfoy’s biggest critic was a ringing endorsement).

Harry was very interested in getting to know this Draco Malfoy. And now Harry was also rapidly realizing he was also very attracted to him.

_So much trouble. I am in so much trouble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to provide a bit of context to Harry's actions. Draco felt the physical attraction first whereas Harry got caught (kind-of) emotionally first. *Shrugs* maybe not too important for the story but this where I was writing some of Harry's eventual dialogue from.


	7. The First Date (?)

At 8am Draco wakes up and has a hazy recollection of a goodnight kiss from Harry. Which is nice. He also remembers _almost_ getting his hands on Harry’s body. Draco’s fingers had been centimeters away from touching the bare skin that he’d been fantasizing about. If only he’d been able to lift Harry’s shirt further before –

And then he remembers agreeing to visit Teddy’s parents, AKA Professor Lupin and his cousin Tonks, AKA deceased war heroes, AKA buried at the war memorial gravesite by Hogwarts, AKA a place Draco has not been emotionally ready to visit since his mother had written him about it when he was still in France.

He firecalls Pansy.

Pansy’s peeved expression emerges from the flames and a quick glance around has her frowning even deeper at him.

“You didn’t go home with him?” She asks. “I swear I saw you guys leave together.”

Draco briefly explains what he remembers about the past night, careful to include the snogging outside the pub but not the dangerous apparating. When he gets to the part about Teddy interrupting, and the spur-of-the-moment agreement to let Harry take him to the war memorial, Pansy’s gleeful expression turns incredulous.

“You made a date with Harry Potter to go to the _war memorial_? That alone is the least sexy thing I can imagine. Not to mention the fact that most of the people buried there died protecting him, and you certainly weren’t innocent even if you weren’t charged. _Are you insane_?”

“I know,” Draco grits out, but tries to defend himself anyways. “That’s why I haven’t gone yet, but he brought it up. He’s the one that offered to take me!”

“Obviously because he’ll do anything to get you to meet Teddy, who you know is his godson but might as well be his actual biological son,” says Pansy.

“I know,” sighs Draco, “should I cancel?”

“That would be even worse,” mutters Pansy, “he makes an anniversary speech every year about being brave and facing your fears and making amends and moving forward and all that other inspirational rot that makes my head hurt.”

“Fuck,” says Draco.

“Yes, exactly, you really should have just fucked him last night. He might take one look at his dead friends and realize associating with you is offensive to their memory.”

This hits Draco harder than he thought it would, and a rush of guilt and regret floods through him. The thought of Harry not wanting to associate with him _hurts_ even though he knows he would deserve it.

“Harry’s not like that,” another voice booms out from the firecall. It’s deep and serious, and takes Draco a couple moments to place it. Pansy’s look of panic and protests of “go away, you’re supposed to be asleep” sufficiently jogs Draco’s memory. _Longbottom._ He’d been so focused on Harry he’d forgotten that Pansy had been snapping after Longbottom.

Sure enough, Longbottom’s sleepy face emerges in the flames alongside Pansy’s. To Draco’s complete horror, Longbottom nuzzles Pansy’s neck and she lets him. She even _blushes_. “Harry’s made peace with what happened with the war, we all have, and he means all that inspirational rot he says, especially the part about moving forward,” explains Longbottom. Longbottom glances up from Pansy’s neck and gives Draco a nod. “Hey Malfoy, I see you finally agreed to go on a date with Harry, although the location is a bit…unexpected.”

“It’s not a date,” snaps Draco, “going to a war memorial does not count as a date.” He decides not to ponder on the fact that Longbottom had also said that Draco had _finally agreed_.

“It so totally is a date,” states Pansy. “A horrifically unsexy date, but still a date, right Neville? You know Potter best, it’s a date right?”

Longbottom nods. “Although, I would have to say that the war memorial is a really important place to Harry. So this might be actually, you know, _more_ than just a date.”

Draco doesn’t want to hear what Pansy says to that so he immediately shuts the firecall and ignores her attempt to reconnect. He’ll get an earful later (that he knows he’ll be able to deflect easily if he grills her about Longbottom, damn did she move quickly though) but in the meantime…

Fuck. _Fuck._ **FUCK.** More than just a date? _More than just a date?_ **MORE THAN JUST A DATE?**

Draco promptly freaks out until he realizes it’s almost 10 and he’s still in his Pajamas, hasn’t showered, hasn’t brushed his hair, hasn’t brushed his teeth. He gets dressed on autopilot, pulling on all black and throws on his old mourning robes he’s relieved he still has. He’s about to brush his hair when a single knock echoes through his flat.

Dammit.

Draco throws open his door and is greeted by a fresh-faced Harry holding two coffees, who, unlike Draco, has had the time to do his hair as it’s neatly brushed to one side. Harry is also dressed smartly in all black, the collar of his shirt starched straight, the hems of his pants just right, the sleeves of his mourning robes pressed crisply. Draco almost slams the door closed as Harry’s eyes sweep over Draco’s infinitely messier and rumpled appearance.

“Uh, you ready?” Harry asks, holding out one of the coffees. “Am I early? I thought you said 10 but I might have heard wrong, in which case I can just wait here, or you know, inside, not that you have to invite me inside, I just – ”

Harry starts retracting the offered coffee, which Draco certainly wants, so he snatches it and takes a big sip. It’s the perfect temperature, and has the perfect amount of milk (a splash) and sugar (two). Even though Draco’s hair clearly indicates he is not ready, he doesn’t want to be a diva that makes Harry wait.

“I did say 10, and I’m ready,” says Draco, smoothing down his thin blonde strands, but knowing it’s a lost cause because his hair always tangles and knots when he sleeps. Harry eyes him with a doubtful expression so Draco clears his throat and changes the subject “how do you know how I take my coffee?”

Harry blushes, “oh I firecalled Hermione this morning, I hope you don’t mind I told her about meeting up with you today.”

Draco perks up at this, “meeting up” was different than a date.

“Thank you for the coffee, and I hope you don’t mind that Pansy and Longbottom know, they’re under the impression this is a date.”

Harry looks baffled. “Why does Neville know?”

“Pansy took him home last night,” responds Draco breezily with a wave, heading down the front steps of his flat, pushing Harry playfully down the steps as well, feeling better about the fact that his hair is dreadfully messy, his teeth are un-brushed, and that they’re going to a war memorial because this wasn’t their first date, this was just a "meet up".

“I made reservations at my favorite place in Hogsmeade for lunch, if that’s okay with you,” says Harry from in front of him. “Teddy’s having lunch with Andromeda and I told her we’d be by later this afternoon for you to say hi. But if you’d prefer, we could just have lunch with them?”

Well, isn’t this shaping up to sound very date-like.

Harry turns around to face him but he still hasn’t come to a conclusion on whether this is a date or not-a-date, which he usually doesn’t care about, because putting labels on things is very lame and in France no one cares about juvenile things like that, but come on, this is _Harry fucking Potter_ , and if Draco is going on a date with the savior of the wizarding world, well he damn well deserves to know.

“Is this a date?” Draco finally decides to ask, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry blinks once, twice, three times.

“Well, I thought so, but if you’re not comfortable with that, it doesn’t have to be,” Harry answers, looking at Draco expectantly.

“Fine,” says Draco, looking away.

“Fine like it’s a date?” asks Harry, eagerly.

“Yes, it’s date, it’s a super fucking weird first date since we’re going to a _war memorial_ but you’re really fucking weird so what did I expect,” says Draco, crossing his arms, muttering “this is the first time I’ve been on a date without brushing my teeth,” under his breath.

Harry laughs, “I knew you weren’t ready when you answered your door, I’ve never seen you looking frazzled.”

Draco makes an abrupt u-turn to head back to his flat. “On second thought, I’m going back to bed and you can go on our first date by yourself.”

Harry grabs his arm and continues to drag him to the designated apparating spot down the street. “You frazzled still takes my breath away Draco, come on, let’s go.”

Right before they apparate, Draco backs away warily. Harry looks confused.

“You make travel very dangerous,” supplies Draco, taking another step back. Harry rolls his eyes and holds out his arm.

“You don’t even know where we’re going, I’ll take us both.”

Draco looks at how Harry is holding his wand out suspiciously.

“You’re not going to do it wandless again are you?”

“What? No, that was one time.”

Draco gingerly takes the offered arm, and immediately they’re off. Draco notices Harry _did not_ use his wand.

That bastard. (Author’s Note: Harry likes to show off in front of Draco)

The war memorial is mostly empty except for a few families scattered along the hillside. Draco is almost startled by how simple it is, sleek granite tombstones on a field of freshly cut green grass. The green is the exact same shade as Harry’s eyes, and he wonders whether it's been spelled that way on purpose. There’s a magical sign that drifts around, displaying “In Honor of our Heroes” with names that flicker below it.

Many names he only faintly remembers as pass classmates, but then:

 _Remus Lupin_ flickers, followed by _Nymphadora Lupin_ , and later _Severus Snape_.

Draco tries not to flinch, but Harry notices anyways and follows his gaze to the sign.

“It’s a neat bit of spell-work isn’t it? Hermione created it, found a way to make a magical reserve from volunteers so it's charmed to last for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.”

Draco swallows the lump in his throat and follows after Harry, who’s making a beeline to the back left corner. As they make their way, the few people they do pass take notice that the famous Harry Potter is there, and start to make their way towards them. Draco notices they hesitate when they see who he’s with and his stomach starts to twist, but then they stop and stare when Harry wraps his arm, almost protectively, around Draco’s waist.

“It’s alright, come on, we're here,” Harry murmurs into Draco’s ear.

They stop in front of two headstones that are right next to each other, in stark contrast to the all the others that are placed meticulously a couple feet away from the next.

Draco stares down at the etched names. _Remus Lupin_. _Nymphadora Lupin_. Draco closes his eyes and says what he’s been meaning to say.

I’m sorry.

And Draco means it. He’s sorry for everything he did, everything he caused, and everything he didn’t stop. He knows his upbringing isn’t an excuse and he’s sorry he couldn’t see past it until it was almost too late. He’s sorry that they died before getting to see their son grow up, and he’s sorry that it’s taken this long for him to apologize. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness and instead promises he’ll be there for his cousin as family. Teddy is a Lupin on his father’s side, but he’s also a black on his mother’s side, just like Draco is.

Draco’s mother had always told him family above everything, even if it seemed as though she forgot that too sometimes, so Draco reaches out and touches the top of Nymphadora’s tombstone gently. _Cousin, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you. I heard you were a brilliant witch, a right terror actually, and I often wished I had your spirit whenever I heard about you. I hope you’re resting in peace with your husband, with Harry Potter over here looking after Teddy, your son is more than taken care of._

“You knew Tonks?” asks Harry, breaking the silence. Draco shakes his head. “I heard about her growing up, but never met her, or Andromeda actually.” Draco thinks about how his mother had finally reconnected with her sister, her name slowly increasing in mention in the letters he received in France. He’d only heard a few wistful stories about her during his childhood, after his mother had a couple glasses of wine.

Draco realizes he’s supposed to meet both his cousin and his aunt today and promptly begins to panic, internally. Harry, Draco is slowly realizing, is much more perceptive than he had originally thought, especially when Draco gets a reassuring squeeze on his side. _Had Harry’s arm been around him the entire time?_

“Don’t worry, they’ll both love you. Dromeda is always asking your mom about you.”

Harry peers down at him. “Is there anyone else you want to see?” Draco’s had enough for today and shakes his head.

They head into Hogsmeade and Harry leads him into a nice place that he doesn’t recognize. The food is good, and both try to keep the conversation light. They talk about the peer exchange project, Harry wants to know if he’s been accepted yet and Draco reminds him they only just did the application. Harry tells him what Teddy likes, disguises, quidditch, and recently – superheroes, in that order. They both awkwardly stumble over less diplomatic topics. They disagree about how much money the Auror department gets and thankfully Draco decides not bring up the fact that Hermione agrees with Draco, because that would be petty and Hermione would disapprove. And because they’re in Hogsmeade, of course they talk about Hogwarts – which goes fine until Draco mentions how Professor Dumbledore always played favorites with Gryffindors and Harry has the gall to protest.

“So you honestly believe that your house deserved to win the house cap each fucking year?”

“Don’t pretend your house didn’t lie and cheat their way to the top.”

“That’s because we’re cunning and ambitious!”

“We actually earned our points fair and square.”

“I wouldn’t call Professor Dumbledore handing you points on a silver platter fair and square!”

They both glare at each other before Harry sighs and crosses his arms. “I hadn’t thought about it that way before,” says Harry with a small smile, “perhaps he did play favorites.”

Draco sniffs and decides to compromise as well. “So maybe neither of our houses deserved to win, those Ravenclaws probably did.”

“It’s weird they always seemed to lose a ton of points the last month before school ended,” says Harry, “Hermione always wondered if they just got a little crazy around finals.”

Draco grins wickedly back, “oh you have the Slytherins to thank for that, you’re just lucky we never considered Gryffindors a threat or else you guys would have lost just as many points.

Thankfully, no other testy subjects come up and around 2pm, Harry insists on paying the bill. When Draco states the next one is on him, Harry beams at him so brightly he almost falls out of his chair. He realizes too late he has essentially asked Harry out on another date. Secretly (actually not-so-secretly), he’s pleased that Harry seems pleased (and that they're going to have another date).

Harry apparates them to Grimmauld Place, _wandlessly again_ , and no sooner has Harry turned the knob, a dark haired blur tackles Harry. To his credit, the sturdy Auror doesn’t even stumble and motions Draco to follow him into the house, dark haired boy still attached to his waist.

“And super boy wonder has the evil villain trapped in the corner,” the dark haired boy is narrating loudly, “and the evil villain begs for mercy.” Harry easily plucks the adolescent boy off of him. “This is Teddy, like I said, he’s currently obsessed with superheroes,” says Harry. “Teddy, we can play later, but say hi to your cousin Draco.”

“THE EVIL VILLAIN BEGS FOR MERCY,” states Teddy.

Which is hilarious because in what world, however imaginary, is _Harry Potter_ an evil villain.

Teddy tries to tackle Harry again, who chuckles and reminds the boy that he’s still sore from being defeated this morning. Of course that means Draco has to tackle him. So Draco launches himself at Harry when Harry turns his back to him.

Harry goes down with a surprised groan while Teddy pumps his fist in the air.

“The evil villain is caught unawares by super boy wonder’s sidekick and the evil villain begs for mercy.”

Draco’s sitting on Harry’s lower back and stretches forward to whisper into Harry’s ear “beg for mercy Harry,” and nibbles on his earlobe. He’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

_“And what do we have here?”_

Draco scrambles off Harry’s back and meets the eyes of a woman that looks frighteningly like Aunt Bella, before she became dark and twisted. An older version of the Aunt that used to play with him in the gardens. He lurches forward to grasp the woman’s arm, but then he realizes her eyes are wider, her nose is less sharp, and her face is more heart-shaped, and stops himself.

“Sorry, you look just like - , I mean, hello, Aunt Andromeda.”

Because this has to be her. Draco hears Harry get up.

“Hey Dromeda!”’

“Draco, what a pleasure, let me look at you,” his aunt says warmly holding Draco by his arms and studying him closely.

To Draco's surprise, he sees his mother glide into the hallway, a displeased expression on her face.

“Imagine my surprise when my sister owls me this morning, asking me wasn’t it wonderful that my son was going to finally meet her and Teddy this afternoon,” his mother states icily, “I firecalled her immediately that she must be mistaken because I hadn’t heard anything of the sort, but here you are.”

Draco really doesn’t know how to explain himself without explaining everything. Harry, unfortunately, doesn’t read his hesitance and decides to tell the truth. _That idiot_.

“It was a last minute decision, really,” Harry says hastily, “I asked Draco late last night and just picked him up this morning around 10 so it wasn’t really planned or anything like that.”

Draco sees his mother’s displeased expression swiftly shift into extreme curiosity and interest.

“Late last night, really now,” says his mother, pinning him down with a sharp look, “and at 10 this morning?”

“Ah I see,” is what his aunt says.

Thankfully, his cousin chooses this moment to introduce himself.

“Hi Draco! I’m Teddy!” The boy’s dark hair promptly turns blonde.

Harry laughs.

Draco notices that Teddy’s blonde hair is tangled and knotted.

 


	8. The Seduction

Over the next month, Draco goes on dates with Harry. They go to the park and take a walk. They go to the muggle movies and share popcorn. They get ice cream with Teddy. They get lunch and dinner with Hermione and Weasley. They even get dinner with Pansy and Longbottom, which Draco resolved to never do again after Pansy makes obscene jokes the entire time, relishes how uncomfortable they make Draco and Harry, and then corners him on the way to the restroom and demands why they haven’t slept together yet. Apparently Pansy and Longbottom are having amazing, mind-blowing sex on a regular basis. Like almost every day.

While Draco has had nothing. Besides chaste good-bye kisses, Harry hasn’t made a single move. Draco’s used to men wanting to touch him, and Harry’s no different. Harry holds his hand, ruffles his hair, strokes his cheek, and wraps his arm around his waist. Draco’s not used to men not following him back into his flat when he invites them in. He remembers Harry saying that he wanted a serious relationship first. So he’d waited patiently, and that was how one entire month had crawled by and now he was seriously wondering whether he’d just lost whatever it was that he used to have that drew men to him.

“Just seduce him,” is what Blaise advises him after he rants about the whole situation one night after drinks.

So the next day Draco puts on his tightest black slacks that accentuate his narrow hips and the slight curve of his backside. He pulls on a slightly sheer white button down that is just professional enough that he can wear to the ministry and undoes the first two buttons so his collarbone peeks out. He dries his hair and carefully applies some mousse until till every strand is in place, brushing his jaw, and then artfully musses the top a bit. Even though it’s almost fall and there’s a slight chill, he holds his robes instead of putting them on so there’s a slight flush to his cheeks. He pinches them for good measure too after he drops off his things in his office and resolves to seduce Harry that morning.

He then stops by Hermione’s office to ask if she has anything for Harry or Ron so he’ll have an excuse to “pop by” the Auror’s department. She takes one look at him and her jaw drops.

“Why do you look like that?” She hisses. “You look like sex on a stick, it’s indecent.”

“Exactly,” responds Draco, “I need an excuse to seduce Harry, give me something to deliver.”

“Are you serious? He’s booked with meetings this entire week, Ron said they’re liaising with MACUSA Aurors for that conference next month.”

“Even better,” says Draco, “I get to disrupt their work, now come on, you owe me.”

“For what?” asks Hermione.

“I don’t know off the top of my head, but you always owe me, I’m always doing favors for you,” says Draco, holding out his hand.

“You always owe me actually, I’m always doing favors for you,” grumbles Hermione, but she reaches for something in her desk and hands over a large manila folder. “Here, Harry asked me last week to summarize some security issues I’ve run into and I’m about halfway done. You can pass that off as a brief update.”  

Draco takes the folder and rushes off to Harry’s office, “Thanks Hermione, I owe you one!”

When he steps into the Auror department no one spares him a glance. It’s a madhouse with Aurors streaming past him back and forth. He almost makes it into the back office with a dark mahogany door that reads _Head Auror Harry Potter_ in gold letters but the secretary glances up and sees him reaching for the doorknob.

“I’m sorry, do you have an appointment?”

Draco clears his throat and waves the manila folder.

“Hermione sent me to drop this off in between one of Harry’s appointments. I know he’s booked with meetings the entire week because of the liaising, but he should be between them right now, right?” Draco asks confidently, holding the folder aloft and hoping that Harry is indeed in between meetings so it sounds like he is in the know and is supposed to be here.

The secretary relaxes. “Mrs. Weasley did? And yes he is, go on in then.”

Draco breathes out a sigh of relief and heads into Harry’s office. Harry’s shoulders are tense and he’s hunched over some papers, fingertips massaging his temples like he has a headache. Draco slams the door shut to announce his presence and Harry looks up in surprise.

“Draco! What are you doing here?”

Draco smiles at him innocently and holds up the folder. “Delivery from Hermione.”

Harry looks at the folder and reaches towards it as Draco walks towards the desk. He ignores the arm that Harry has reaching out and walks past the chairs sitting in front the desk. Instead, he drops the folder on the far edge of the desk, away from Harry’s reach, and walks around the desk until he’s standing in front of Harry, between him and the desk.

Harry looks at him suspiciously.

Draco takes a seat on Harry’s desk, on top of the papers Harry had just been reading. The desk is also mahogany like the door, very sturdy, and it’s tall so his legs don’t quite reach the ground. For once he’s looking down at Harry who’s usually a good head and then some taller than him.

Harry is still seated in his chair and regarding him with interest.

“What are you doing?”

Draco shifts on top of the table and hears the papers he’s sitting on crinkle as he does so. He opens his legs slightly, clutches the edge of the desk, and leans forward slightly with soft smile and licks his lips.

Harry in his chair inches closer, and leans towards Draco.

_Yes, that’s it, come closer._

“I was thinking about you this morning, that’s all,” says Draco coyly, opening his legs a little bit wider, not really answering the question.

Harry inches a bit closer.

“Yeah?”

“And now that I see you, I want you,” says Draco, leaning back onto his arms on the desk, legs open wide, an invitation for Harry to step into. He looks into Harry’s darkening eyes and is struck by the intensity that almost matches the moment he’d kissed him spontaneously at the bar. Harry stands up and takes a step forward, he’s almost standing between Draco’s legs now.

Draco knows how he must look, leaning back in a thin white shirt, buttons open, cheeks flushed, licking his lips and now tilting his chin up to meet Harry’s gaze from above. They haven’t broken eye contact.

 _He has to want to fuck me right now, I’m practically begging for it_.

Suddenly a flash of images whips through his mind. They feel foreign to him, the color is brighter than he’s used to, and it’s the image of Draco, naked, pale skin sprawled against this dark wooden desk he’s currently sitting on. There’s a knocked over pot of ink on the desk, and black ink stains streak across his left forearm. He’s squirming, and his hands are clutching the side of the desk. He’s arching his back. His legs are open, knees bent, Draco’s large strong hands pressing them down. Draco’s thrusting into this deliriously beautiful man and –

_What the fuck? Draco’s large strong hands are pressing what down? Draco’s thrusting into what now?_

Just as suddenly, the images disappear and Draco glances down and sees the ink pot upright but dangerously close to his left hand. Draco looks up and sees that Harry’s eyes have a slight hazy look about them and realizes that he’d actually fucking caught a surface level thought of Harry’s. The images had been from Harry’s point of view. Not a true attempt at legilimency, but still, Draco somehow anticipated what Harry was thinking that exact moment and had accidentally slipped in. Harry was known to be able to throw off any deep invasions of his thoughts, but apparently hadn’t noticed this, quick as it was.

And what a thought it was. Goody-two-shoes not wanting to fuck Draco was this man not.

Harry takes another step forward, finally between Draco’s legs. Draco arches up to meet his lips, almost shivering in anticipation for those images to take place, when a voice drifts through the door.

“Oh Head Auror Potter’s still in there with someone, you shouldn’t go in until they’re finished.”

They both freeze.

“Nonsense!” A distinctly American voice booms out, “My appointment is for exactly right now!”

Draco pushes Harry roughly back into his chair and drops to the ground immediately. He hears a rush of noise that follows when the heavy door opens, and decides to clamber under the desk, which thankfully, is quite spacious.

_Why do we keep getting interrupted like this?_

Harry takes it all in stride, hastily settling into the chair and pulls up almost flush against the edge of the desk, clearing his throat. His knee bumps against Draco’s nose and Draco has to press his mouth against Harry’s pant covered thigh to muffle the yelp of pain.

Draco hears a sharp intake of breath from above him and feels Harry’s leg twitch against his lips.

_Well, well, well._

Now Draco is the one with the delicious view of Harry’s firm thighs and what appears to be a hardening cock pressing against the fabric of Harry’s pants.

Honestly, Draco couldn’t have planned this better.

He settles gingerly between Harry’s thighs, and presses against them to spread wider. Harry actually complies.

“Oh! Did Mr. Malfoy leave?” The secretary asks.

“Uh yes, he did, but could I have a minute to prepare for the - ”

Draco hears heavy footsteps enter the room and someone sits heavily into the chair just on the other side of the desk.

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Potter, let’s discuss the men I will be bringing next month.”

It’s all really quite boring, so Draco presses his fingers against Harry’s left thigh to see if he can get a response. Just a twitch. He drags his fingers further upward, closer to Harry’s crotch. Harry’s knee jerks upward and hits the underside of the desk with a band.

“Sorry about that, this chair was a gift, it’s charmed to self-adjust but doesn’t always _behave_.”

Draco almost snorts, a clever explanation but really, is this Harry telling him to behave?

Not a chance.

He peers up and sees that the desk goes up as high as above Harry’s belly button. Perfect for obscuring what he wants to do next.

Draco tugs on the fabric covering Harry’s thigh to get his attention. Harry finally looks down when the man starts droning about vantage points. Draco cocks his head to the side, and gives Harry a particularly lascivious look, his best attempt at asking for permission.

Harry looks abruptly away, which Draco decides to take as not a no.

Well then.

Draco sits up a bit straighter, careful not to smack his head against the bottom of the desk. He wraps his hands around the back of Harry’s knees and nudges them forward.

_Come on, you need to move closer so I can get a better angle._

Harry shifts in his seat, and moves forward. Now _this_ Draco takes as permission.

Draco palms Harry’s straining cock from above the fabric with his left and hand and also strokes it roughly with his right hand. And then because he can’t wait, he quickly unzips Harry’s pants and pulls out the half hard cock from the slit in Harry’s briefs.

He’s big, that’s for sure.

Harry’s voice hasn’t wavered, if anything, there’s a determined edge to his voice when he answers the American’s questions.

Draco takes an experimental lick, and Harry immediately shifts forward, pressing his torso flush against the desk. Draco realizes why when he accidentally releases Harry’s cock and it’s so big and curved that the head gently hits the underside of the desk.

 _Holy Shit_.

Harry lets out a soft grunt and his left hand appears below the desk to grasp his own cock, and moves to tuck it into back into his own pants.

Draco leans forward and wetly licks Harry’s hand and the cock he’s holding in one fell swoop. Harry’s hand releases himself, and disappears from Draco’s view. That’s right, Draco thinks, stay away.

Harry’s fully hard now and Draco grasps Harry’s cock with his left hand, leans forward and licks lightly along the underside of it. He kisses the head, and then envelops it all with his mouth. Harry’s legs tense. Harry also lets out a strained groan.

“What? You disagree with me?” The American growls.

“I don’t think you need that many men, we have more than enough highly trained…”

Boring.

Draco first just sucks on the head, but then begins blowing Harry in earnest. Taking more of him into his mouth and relaxing his throat to anticipate Harry’s thickness. His lips try to reach the base of Harry’s cock but before that he can already feel Harry’s length hitting the back of his throat. _Fuck._ Draco images how he’ll feel with this cock inside him and almost moans. The vibration in his throat must do something for Harry because Harry’s knees almost close and one of Harry’s hands makes another appearance to tangle in his hair and Draco is gently pushed away and off his cock until once again it’s just the head in his mouth.  

Fine.

Draco grasps Harry’s cock with his right hand and slides that hand up and down, following it with his tongue and then his entire mouth in a quick and hard rhythm. And then because he’s just as hard, he slips his left hand into his own pants and starts to jerk himself off. He can’t hold back a moan, and just as one threatens to escape, he feels a wash of magic envelop him.

Draco moans.

The American man doesn’t seem to notice and doesn’t stop talking. Harry must have cast a wandless privacy spell on Draco. Draco lets out another moan, and when the American still doesn’t seem to notice, Draco decides to be as vocal as he wants.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m going to come sucking you off and touching myself under your desk,” Draco says, wondering if Harry has included himself in the privacy spell or not.

Harry stops mid-sentence and Draco smirks to himself. Harry didn’t include himself.

Draco replaces his hand with his mouth and takes as much of Harry as he can, and moans deeply around him.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, let’s talk tomorrow, bye,” Harry gasps out. The American sputters but moves to leave. The moment the door closes, Harry pushes away from the desk and pulls Draco out from under.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Harry accuses, simultaneously lifting Draco back onto his desk. Harry pulls Draco flush against him as Draco blinks at the sudden brightness of the room.

“ _Fuck_ , you look – you look - ”

“Like I just sucked your cock under your desk,” supplies Draco helpfully.

Harry growls and leans over to press a small button at the corner of his desk. “Can you reschedule my next appointment? I need a 30-minute break.” He then waves his wand and Draco hears the door click locked.

“Oh, I won’t need that long,” says Draco, guiding Harry’s hand to dip into his own pants that he’d unbuttoned under the desk. Harry’s large hand wraps around Draco’s cock and strokes him expertly. Draco brings his hands up and guides Harry’s face close to his so he can kiss him sweetly. Harry sighs into his mouth, his tongue beginning to explore Draco’s mouth. Draco purposefully ignores Harry’s cock even as Harry strokes roughly and brings Draco right to the edge.

Draco comes into Harry’s hand and moans against Harry’s lips. Immediately, Draco murmurs “do your wandless magic thing and clean me up I hate being sticky.” Harry complies and then his hands begin to pull off the rest of Draco’s pants and his fingers start to grasp Draco’s ass. Draco can feel Harry’s cock pressed between them, twitching to get to the f _ucking_.

Draco extracts himself from Harry, leaps off the desk, pulls up his pants, buttons them, brushes his hair back and gives the baffled Harry a bright smile. And what a sight it is, Harry is completely flushed, pants halfway down, bright red cock fully erect.

“That was fun, see you later,” says Draco, pulling out his own wand and quickly unlocking the door. As Draco reaches to open it, he hears Harry curse and quickly pull up his own pants.

“Are you seriously leaving me like this?”

Draco ignores him and breezes out the door, giving the secretary a bright smile on his way out.

 _Best Monday ever_.  


	9. The Relationship Status

It’s almost midnight and Draco’s about to get ready for bed when he hears a knock at his door. He’s hesitant to answer it because it’s late and he isn’t expecting anyone. He mutters a detection spell and is greeted by the very welcome sight of Harry Potter at his doorstep.

Oh? Was Harry finally going to come into his flat?

Draco carefully opens the door, and Harry barges in.

“If you weren’t awake I was going to kill you, how could you leave me like that this morning? I barely got through my meetings, didn’t pay attention to anything anyone said, so then I had to stay late to read through all the notes which took forever because _I was still thinking about you_.”

Harry is glowering at him, but reaches out for Draco anyways, and kisses him roughly anyways.

“Don’t you,” Draco gasps in-between kisses, “have Teddy tonight?”

“I told him I was staying at your place tonight,” answers Harry, “he’s with Dromeda.”

Draco tears himself away. “You told him what? He’s going to think we’re together.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Teddy’s 10, not stupid, he knows we’re in a relationship,” and pulls Draco back to kiss him again. Draco files this away for discussion later, content to let Harry resume kissing him.

Draco at last is able to pull Harry’s shirt off, and is rewarded with the sight of hard muscles on a built, wide-shouldered frame. Harry exudes strength and power and Draco _loves it_. He drags his fingers across Harry’s chest and doesn’t protest when Harry efficiently divests Draco of his clothes.

“Bedroom?” Harry asks, eyes glittering. Draco motions to the closed door behind him. Harry hoists him up and Draco obediently wraps his bare legs around Harry’s bare waist. This was quickly becoming his favorite position. Harry carries him effortlessly into the bedroom, and places Draco onto the edge of the bed. Harry mutters a sex spell designed to clean and Draco’s ass tingles a bit as Harry fingers quickly find his hole and gently probe.

“Impatient are you,” Draco gasps.

“You left me hard in the middle of my office earlier today, impatient doesn’t touch what I’m feeling,” growls Harry, inserting his entire index finger and not meeting much resistance.

"You made me wait an entire month," says Draco, "and then I had to try to seduce you today to even get you here."

"Mmmm," says Harry, "was that what you were doing today?"

Harry's still taking his sweet fucking time with the first finger and Draco just wants more.

Draco wriggles. “It’s fine, do more. I uh, already did it myself when I got home today,” he confesses.

“Really,” says Harry, inserting a second finger, and then a third before Draco gasps. “You didn’t even wait for me?” asks Harry.

“How was I supposed to know you were going to stop by tonight,” grits Draco as Harry adds a fourth finger and his ass starts to burn, “how many fucking fingers are you going to put in?”

Harry stretches him a bit more, before removing his fingers and placing the head of his already erect cock against Draco. Harry pushes gently and Draco gasps at the thickness of it.

“More,” Draco encourages, biting his lip. Harry leans forward and kisses him, gently easing in. Harry grunts when Draco pushes back, and soon Harry is thrusting deeper and deeper. They’re both panting and Draco’s entirely lost in how good it feels when Harry shifts and finds a better angle that has him quivering. Harry is groaning and thrusting faster and Draco has to grip Harry’s shoulders tightly to brace himself.

“Wait,” gasps Draco, “get on the bed I want to get on top of you.”

Harry grunts, but complies and slips out of Draco, gets onto his bed, and lies down on his back. Draco straddles him and marvels at the fact that he finally has Harry in his bed, naked, hard, waiting for him, after months of imagining it. Draco grips Harry’s cock firmly, pleased when Harry moans and goes to hold Draco around his waist. Draco guides the cock into him, and begins to rock his hips to set the place. He grinds down hard until it’s Harry that’s gasping and squirming under him. Harry strokes Draco, and after a particularly rough squeeze Draco comes and his strength rapidly sinks away. Harry still hasn’t come yet, and flips Draco onto his back, whispering things like "you feel so good," and "worth the wait," while finding a rhythm that once again has them both gasping again. Although Draco's exhausted, he does his best to meet Harry's thrusts and leans up to kiss the groaning mouth. Soon, Harry comes quickly inside him after a hard thrust and Draco's cock actually twitches with interest, _again_.

Harry rolls off of him and mutters another cleaning spell that cleans away the evidence of their romp. Draco slips under the cover and briefly wonders if he’s supposed to walk Harry out, when Harry also slips under the cover and pulls Draco against him. Draco freezes up at the sudden warmth pressed behind him as Harry throws an arm around his torso.

“Mmmm,” says Harry into the back of his neck, “that was amazing, you're amazing.”

“You’re staying over?” asks Draco.

Harry kisses the back of his neck and Draco shivers. “You’d kick your boyfriend out of your bed?” Harry replies.

 _Boyfriend?_ Waiiiiiit. Sure they’d been on a couple dates. Draco stops and tries to count them, and gets to 8 dates in the past month before he stops counting. So they’d been on at least 10 dates. Did that mean they were boyfriends? Was this what Harry meant when he said Teddy knew they were in a relationship?

“This,” says Draco, “wasn’t what I intended.”

Harry chuckles, “you mean you weren’t trying to get into pants?”

“Well I had intended that, but not the…boyfriend part,” says Draco cautiously, wondering if Harry was going to take offense.

Harry sighs, “You know I can tell when someone is just trying to sleep with me.”

Draco wonders if this is it then, the end of whatever they have. Except Harry just pulls him closer until the entire length of Draco’s back is pressed against Harry’s firm body.

“But that isn’t what this is, so don’t think too much about it and just agree that you’re my boyfriend,” is what Harry says matter-of-factly, and adds “especially if you want to get into my pants again.”

Draco does want to get into Harry’s pants again. And again. And again. And also decides he likes the feel of Harry pressed against back, kissing his neck. And also decides he likes all the dates they went on. And he could do a lot worse than what all the gossips rags call the most eligible bachelor of the century. In fact, Draco’s pretty sure he _couldn’t do better_. Especially since Harry’s probably the best person he knows, and the sexiest, but also the best.

“Fine,” says Draco, “we’re boyfriends.”

“Great,” says Harry, yawning.

But Draco starts to worry about this means. What if they broke up? Would he be allowed to see Teddy? What would everyone else think? What would the ministry think? What would Harry’s Auror’s think? What would -

“Stop thinking so much,” Harry grumbles, “everything’s going to be fine, just go to sleep.”

Harry sounds so sure of himself that Draco decides if Harry wasn’t going to worry than he wasn’t going to worry either.

When they go to pick up Teddy from Andromeda’s the next morning, the little shit grins up at them. “Well this is kind of weird isn’t it? My dad dating my cousin? Isn’t that _in-chest?_ ”

Harry chokes.

Draco, on the other hand, recognizes a fellow troublemaker when he sees one. He ruffles Teddy’s blonde hair. “That’s right, the word is incestuous, by the way, no time like the present to build your vocabulary, you tell all your friends that Harry Potter is a morally corrupt evil villain.”

“What the – Teddy _do not_ tell that to anyone,” protests Harry, “this is not incestuous, Draco and I are not related.”

Teddy yells out a “BYE GRANDMOTHER, MY INSTANT DAD IS HERE” and races down the steps. Harry looks downright scandalized and Draco finds the whole thing hilarious. Teddy wasn’t stupid _at all_.

At first nothing really changes beyond the fact that Harry calls Draco his boyfriend around their friends and no one really makes a big deal out it. Pansy raises her brows at him when he tells her and sounds impressed, “how did you make that happen?” and Blaise just mutters that they’re all crazy to be dating who they’re dating. And Draco has a sinking suspicion _he_ didn’t make that happen, and instead it was _Harry_ that made it happen. Which is baffling because he’s not quite sure what Harry likes about him, but takes comfort in the fact that he seems to make Harry smile a lot. Harry also relaxes when he’s around. And they have pretty mind-blowing sex on a regular basis, finally.

Beyond their circle of friends and family, no one really seems to know. Although the gossip rags and the Prophet prints a couple of pictures of them out and about, there’s only speculation on Draco’s role as a cousin to Teddy, and the occasional “HARRY POTTER FORGIVES BOYHOOD NEMESIS” and “HARRY POTTER MAKES AMENDS WITH DEATH EATER.” Clearly even the general public can’t even entertain the thought that they could be _together_.

But that gets shot to hell when after the final quidditch game, Auror’s vs. Cursebreakers (Team Advocates had been knocked out very early to Harry’s relief, Draco had almost fallen off his broom twice the second game) Harry pulls up right in front of the bleachers where Draco, Hermione, and Pansy had been cheering, hands Draco the game-winning snitch, “for you!” and proceeds to kiss him blatantly in front of _everyone_. There’s a roar of surprise since the bleachers are packed with spectators and there’s flashes of light going off all around them.

“Harry,” hisses Draco, “people are watching.”

Harry beams at him. “Sorry, got caught up in the moment.” And then proceeds to do a victory lap around the quidditch pitch with his team, leaving Draco alone in the bleachers to deal with shocked stares. Pansy of course, finds this hilarious. Hermione is all giddy smiles and pats Draco comfortingly on his back. “He’s been agonizing over how he was going to tell everyone for _weeks_ , I don’t think he even mentioned today as an option he probably did just get caught up in the moment, isn’t that romantic?”

Draco doesn’t find it romantic. Especially since he hadn’t been brave enough to tell his mother they were officially dating yet. _She was going to kill him_.

At least Harry’s magic touch at the ministry helps them out. Their peer exchange program gets the full green light and they’re all set to start the first cohort the following summer, right in time for Teddy’s 11th birthday and also when Harry expects Teddy to get his Hogwarts letter. Teddy’s been sparking magic left and right, not to mention his increasingly dangerous adeptness at controlling his metamorphmagus abilities.

Draco also gets hit by a few innocuous hexes a couple of times when he's in Diagon Alley by himself. Someone trashes his office at the Ministry, but Hermione casts a bunch of detection spells and calls over an entire _fucking Auror team_ and gets the offender fired from his position in the Department of Magical Sports and then arrested for harassment and then no one dares to say anything offensive to him within the Ministry walls. He also gets an influx of howlers at his flat which makes Harry furious. A few of them says particularly nasty things about his immoral character and evil nature and even makes a threat on his life.  Draco had expected it after all so it doesn’t really bother him. He does enjoy watching the usually calm-and-gracious-in-the-face-of-danger Harry Potter storm back and forth across his living room.

“You had to know this wasn’t going to be all sunshine and daisies,” says Draco. Which he knows doesn’t help the situation.

When Harry asks why Draco doesn’t seem bothered, he just shrugs, “It’s not like what they’re accusing me of isn’t true, I used to be like that.”

Harry looks peeved, “You’re not like that at all _anymore_.”

Draco gives him a small smile, “So you say, but how do you know I don’t have evil designs on your life and tricked you into dating me?”

Harry sighs, “Because I _know_ , and I’m the one that _tricked you_ into dating me, not the other way around.”

Hearing Harry admit it makes Draco suddenly very very curious.

“Yes and why did you? You could have just fucked me like I wanted and walked away from this whole mess,” asks Draco, leaning forward and very curious about the answer.

Harry actually blushes, “well I liked you didn’t I?”

 Really?” asks Draco, considering, “Starting from when? And why?”

Harry clears his throat, “I just did, I mean I just do, okay? Stop fishing for compliments.” And then refuses to elaborate further.

The next time Teddy and Draco are chasing the evil villain around Grimmauld Place, when they capture said evil villain, Draco hands the hero interrogator a carefully planned script.

“Do you admit your guilt in being a morally corrupt evil villain with _incessant_ designs on my sidekick?” asks Teddy firmly. _Incestuous_ corrects Draco with a smirk.

Harry gapes at Draco and shakes his head at Teddy. “I vehemently deny those charges.”

Draco dramatically grabs his little cousin’s hands. “The evil villain is breaking up with me I might die of a broken heart.”

Teddy glares at his dad. “ADMIT YOUR GUILT BEFORE MY SIDEKICK DIES!”

Harry sighs and admits it while Draco smirks, motioning for Teddy to continue with the script.

“Your only defense from execution is your explanation of…” Teddy peers closely at the script, “WHEN YOU STARTED LIKING MY SIDEKICK AND WHY!”

Harry breaks free of the rubber bands holding his wrists together and immediately tackles Draco as Teddy shrieks his surprise. “THE EVIL VILLAIN HAS ESCAPED!”

“What are you using my cousin for, you insane love of mine?” Harry asks, playfully smothering Draco in a hug.

Draco flushes at the phrase “love of mine” but reaches out desperately for Teddy who’s blinking at the pair in surprise.

“Help super wonder boy,” whines Draco, “beat up this evil villain so we can escape.”

To Draco’s absolute surprise (and extreme delight), Teddy bites Harry on arm, which elicits a yelp of pain from Harry, and gives Draco ample time to scramble out from under him, take Teddy by the arm, and run outside into the backyard past his aunt, who is drinking tea calmly in the kitchen.

“The beautiful queen resolves to help the hero escape from the evil villain by poisoning him with her tea,” calls out Teddy when they pass her. Draco leads Teddy in the hedges right outside the back door and throws up a disillusionment charm. They hear Harry rush into the kitchen.

“Dromeda, he bit me! Teddy bit me in the arm! Draco’s a horrible influence on him,” states Harry. “Do you know the words he’s teaching him?”

Draco sniggers behind his hedges and Teddy sniggers with him.

“Well his father was a werewolf, so it’s only natural he uses his teeth,” Draco hears his aunt reply calmly, “and drink this Tea I poisoned.”

“YOU CAN’T TELL DAD IT’S POISONED, THAT’S CHEATING!” accuses Teddy from outside the door.

Harry bursts out from the backdoor, immediately dispelling the disillusionment charm wandlessly. Draco wants to pull his hair out. Harry's casual use of wandless magic was driving him crazy. Yes it was immensely impressive and more often than not a huge turn on, but it still drove Draco _crazy_. Especially because it left little tingles on his skin, the kind that only Harry could leave behind.

Harry stomps menacingly toward them, and Teddy ducks behind Draco to hide.

Draco hold out both his hands, palms out.

“Wait,” says Draco, “please let us escape?”

“You almost killed me,” growls Harry, “why should I?”

Draco smiles at him, his nicest smile. The same smile he first game Harry when he talked to him the first time in 10 years.

“Because I love you?”

It’s the first time Draco has said this to Harry, and it stops the stomping man right in his path. Draco grabs Teddy’s hand and the two run back into the house, past his smiling Aunt, and up the stairs.

“ **What?** Draco! Come back. **Say it again!** ”


	10. The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends my first attempt at fanfiction. A little bumpy, a little rushed at parts, and learning my forte is perhaps not an actual plot and instead just random fluffy scenes. Thanks to everyone who stuck it through the whole way!

Of Weddings

Of course while Draco has just started telling Harry he loves him, that’s when Pansy and Longbottom _get engaged_.

“I just felt like proposing,” shrugs Pansy when Draco first hears of it, telling him “we don’t all move as slow as you.” Which Draco vehemently protests, since he’d almost slept with Potter that first night after the game (choosing to ignore the fact they didn’t actually until more than a month later).

“You mean the night I sealed the deal with Neville?” is Pansy’s response.

Blaise, who has **the worst** role model for when and why marriage should take place, agrees with her. When Draco asks why Blaise hasn’t married Luna since they’d been dating for years, Blaise just looks at Draco like he’s crazy.

“Why would I get married? I don’t want her to _die_.”

Like that’s a totally normal opinion to have. _Merlin._ And Draco had always thought Blaise had been the most normal of their Slytherin trio.

Hermione thinks it’s romantic, but she’s pregnant, so Draco will forgive her for sappy thoughts and stupid comments for the next 9 months. (He’s also praying that Hermione’s bushy brown hair overrides the red Weasley curse because he wasn’t sure if he could like a red-headed baby).

Draco is reminded that Neville is pureblood like Pansy when their wedding becomes _the event_ to snag an invite to for that year’s social calendar. He’s gets an obscene amount of invites to all the society events, ones that had snubbed him for years, at which they all wheedle about Pansy’s guest list. Draco only goes to watch Harry get flustered by the attention and compliments (it’s adorable actually). But stops when Harry learns how to charm them all (too much of a turn on, and Draco knows the hosts won’t appreciate catching them in the coat closet).

The wedding is beautiful with a (not so) surprising amount of muggle influences. Pansy’s new muggle formal-wear line is quite the rage and she couldn’t resist making the wedding party one blaring advertisement but her business. Draco, obviously, doesn’t mind because Harry looks dashing in a well-tailored three-piece suit and easily steals the show from Longbottom (not that he could say that to Pansy because Pansy would kill him). The brawl that breaks out on the dance floor between Pansy’s cousins and Longbottom’s friends makes all the headlines the next day. Later, Pansy confesses she instigated it to ensure they would make the front page. When Longbottom finds it hilarious Draco decides they’ll be just fine.

And, in an effort to not move too slow, Draco agree to move in to Grimmauld Place with Harry and Teddy. When Draco spends an entire month of Harry’s salary to redecorate the place without telling him and includes a lot of greens and silvers, Harry is _furious._ Teddy lets Draco hide in his room and refuses to let Harry enter, ready to defend his sidekick until his dying breath: “YOU PROMISED IT’S MY PRIVATE SPACE, YOU CAN’T COME IN WITHOUT MY PERMISSION,” Draco decides they’ll be just fine too.

Of Weasley Dinners

The final push that forces Draco to attend the monthly dinner that he always planned meetings for so Harry couldn’t drag him there, is the aforementioned and unfortunately red-headed baby spawn of Hermione and Weasley. Because the moment Molly Weasley hears that little Rose Weasley _adores_ Draco (he knew always agreeing to babysit was going to bite him in the ass) to the point that she demands to be held by him whenever she sees him, there was no avoiding the suddenly unwelcome en-mass approval of the whole Weasley clan.

But seeing how happy Harry is when he bursts home and announces that Molly is insisting Draco come to dinner that month plies the “fine” from his mouth.

The subsequent romp that night and office sex the next day is an appropriate consolation prize.

The dinner is a bit awkward, but everyone coos when Draco easily rocks little Rose to sleep after her dinner. And then Fleur and Bill's son insists on sitting next to Draco during dessert and babbles incomprehensible things at him that Draco makes an earnest attempt to understand but fails miserably after a series of what's, so resorts to tickling the boy to get him to shut up. Thankfully this boy Weasley does not have red hair so that makes dessert more tolerable. Harry just looks at him with proud eyes the entire night, which means Draco tries to avoid his gaze but it’s just plain _embarrassing_ to have Harry mooning over you so blatantly.

It’s also the first time that Teddy calls Draco “Mum” by accident, probably because all the Weasley’s are clamoring about their “Mum” and her cooking (which Draco admittedly understands because he finally gets that second piece of pie). Teddy defiantly tells the entire table, “my Mum makes the best tea!” which confuses everyone until he tugs on Draco’s shirt and insists that he “show them.” Draco immediately launches into an explanation of genders and protests the title and probably could have convinced Teddy to never call him that again, but the evil Weasley clan just laughs and start referring to him as Teddy’s Mum until Teddy, who is _not stupid_ , realizes that he can give Draco a hard time about this.

So Teddy starts calling Draco “Mum” only in public and only with an audience with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Draco wonders if this is how Harry feels when Teddy and Draco team up on him. He laments about this to Harry, who is, not surprisingly, unsympathetic.

That night Draco does get sweet kisses all along his neck and Harry tells him “I love you so much” at least a dozen times. When Draco tells Harry to “shut up” and grumbles out an “I love you too,” he can feel Harry smile against his shoulder.

Of Hogwarts Send-Offs

The summer before Teddy starts at Hogwarts he’s matched with a fellow 11-year-old trouble-maker named Pat (Draco tries not to laugh at how much muggle-sounding that name is because that would be offensive and inappropriate). For two blissful weeks Draco and Harry have the entire place to themselves, which in retrospect, they probably should have used to relax and recuperate instead of the other intense activity they partook in on a regular basis, multiple times, each day. Because when it’s their turn to watch the pair, they quickly learn two 11-year-olds with a penchant for disguise, escaping, making messes, and causing trouble for the heck of it, is almost more than they can handle.

It’s also when Draco realizes he’s going to have to break the news to Harry that he knows a fellow Slytherin when he sees one. Sure Teddy is brave and daring, but he’s also cunning and resourceful. And Draco _listens_ when Teddy tells Pat that he wants to do as amazing things that his deceased parents have done, and live up to his dad’s name (and Draco knows he’s talking about Harry). Because even if Teddy hasn’t realized it, Draco recognizes Teddy has a thirst to make a name for himself, much like Draco did at his age. Although they’d talked about not making assumptions about which house Teddy would end up in and had made it clear to Teddy they would love to see him in any of the houses, Harry slips up occasionally with comments like “here’s my old Hogwarts scarf, I’ll wear it to all your games Teddy!” and “make sure you don’t take the bed I had near the window, the sunlight always woke me up too early.”

Draco wasn’t sure how Harry was going to take it and rambles through his explanations, looking up at the end to face an embarrassed Harry Potter. It’s the first time Draco has said anything about how Harry parents, so when he takes the advice graciously, Draco can’t help but say “I love you” because Harry makes him feel like he might actually be a part of their family.

At platform 9 and ¾, Teddy hugs Harry first and Draco immediately after, squeezing him tight around his waist and burying his face into his robes. When Teddy pulls away Draco tries not to tear up at the sight of Teddy tearing up and almost succeeds at it until the boy whispers an earnest “bye Mum.”

So that’s how Draco realizes he’s become a mother to an 11-year-old boy. A year ago Draco would have laughed himself silly at the thought.

Of being a Mother

Harry’s still at the office working late nights on a particularly baffling case when a firecall erupts in his living room and is told that “Teddy’s Mum and Dad is needed at the Headmaster’s office immediately because Teddy has violated the Hogwarts honor code.” Draco drops by the Auror’s office and finds Harry sleeping at his desk, cheek stained with the ink of the quill it’s pressed against, and decides against waking the man that he knows has gotten barely any sleep the last couple of days.

Draco makes the trek alone to Hogwarts and begins to regret not waking up Harry when he has to walk through mud from the apparating point to the main doors because he _knows_ Harry can slip past wards like it’s nothing and apparate wherever he damn well pleases (once Harry had apparated straight into Draco’s office which should have been impossible based on Ministry restrictions, just to deliver him his birthday lunch).

He knocks on the door and enters cautiously when Professor – no – Headmistress McGonagall states “come in.” He’s greeted by a sniffling Teddy that immediately clutches at Draco’s robes and cries “I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad Mum!” and a very startled looking Headmaster.

“You’re Teddy’s Mum?” asks McGonagall with a heavy dose of surprise laced in her grave tone.

Draco nods. “Uh yes, it just… happened that…way,” he says, and tries to explain, “I live with them, with Harry and Teddy that is” and then adds “we’re together” in response to McGonagall’s pinched stare.

“I’m aware of your relationship with Mr. Potter, but I admit I had expected Andromeda when Teddy mentioned notifying his mum, but my apologies for making that assumption,” answers McGonagall.

"No that’s alright, it’s a bit… unorthodox, I know,” answers Draco carefully and explains that Harry is wrapped up with an Auror case. _Unorthodox my ass,_ Draco knows it's _insane_  that anyone was calling Draco "Mum" and that Draco was _allowing it._

McGonagall explains that Teddy has been caught using his metamorphic abilities to take exams for his fellow classmates in an attempt to make money. Draco resolutely manages to hide how impressed he is that 1) Teddy has made a couple galleons from it, 2) Teddy has been scoring A’s and E’s in classes he’s not even in, and 3) Teddy had managed to impersonate 6 students (that they know of, Draco would have to get the real number from Teddy later) before he’d been caught. All this in the first couple months of school? A true Slytherin indeed.

Not too shabby. But unfortunately as a “responsible” parent, not behavior he should condone, at least publicly.

“Teddy,” sighs Draco, tipping the dejected chin of the boy upwards to meet his eyes, “you know what you did was wrong, right?” Teddy’s eyes water but he nods. “Then why were you doing it?”

“I wanted to help them,” says Teddy softly, which Draco doesn’t doubt is true, but he also knows there’s more.

“And?” prompts Draco.

“And I wanted to make money,” responds Teddy dutifully.

“What do you need money for?” frowns Draco, “Is there anything Harry and I need to get you?”

“No!” explains Teddy, “I just…I just needed some money to buy something.”

“Buy what?” asks Draco.

“I wanted to get you and dad something nice for Christmas,” mumbles Teddy. Draco sees McGonagall’s eyes immediately soften and flood with understanding. That’s right, Teddy was an adorably good kid, not like the other spoiled riff raff at Hogwarts.

“That’s very nice of you Teddy,” says Draco, “but you know Harry wouldn’t like it if you bought him something with money you made dishonestly right?”

Teddy nods sadly. Internally, Draco thinks that he, on the other hand, would LOVE something bought with money made in such devious ways but realizes this is not the time or place to say that, and relishes in the fact that he didn’t have to say “Harry and I wouldn’t like it,” because that would be a lie.

“How about this,” says Draco racking his brains for a solution, “I’ll talk to Harry about whether you’re old enough now to get an allowance depending on your grades and behavior at school, and maybe see if there is anything you can do to help your grandmother with on the weekends or on holiday to make some extra money?”

“Really?” exclaims Teddy. Draco nods, “But no promises, I have to talk your dad first.”

The Headmaster clears her throat, “there’s the matter of assigning Teddy detentions for each of the Professors he deceived.”

Draco meets her eyes, “that sounds reasonable, but nothing in the forbidden forest, and I expect the students that hired him for the service will also be serving detention.”

This earns him a look of approval from his old professor, “of course, Mr. Malfoy,” she says, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Feel free to head back to your dormitory Mr. Lupin, I’d like a word with your…mum,” she says with a small smile. Teddy races out of the room immediately without even a backwards glance at Draco, overly eager to escape.

Draco takes the offered hand and is surprised when McGonagall says, “you’re very good with Teddy, Mr. Malfoy” and has to hold back a blush at the compliment.

“I’ve been meaning to owl and ask whether you would be interested in holding a guest lecture on Magical History, particularly on the edits you made in our textbook, Hogwarts, A History.”

Draco is speechless.

“Unfortunately many of our students are not inspired by Professor Binns on the subject and I thought bringing in a young expert on the subject might spark their interest on a notably dense subject,” she explains.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, given my history with this school,” Draco states nervously.

“Nonsense,” says McGonagall, “you’re one of our most distinguished alumni and your peer exchange program has made you very popular with both our students and their families.”

Draco laughs, “I’m sure I’m not nearly as popular has Harry.”

McGonagall nods seriously, and says “well we can’t all save the wizarding world, can we?” with a twinkle in her eye.   

Of loving (or being loved by) Harry

Even though Harry is constantly telling Draco “I love you” because of the smallest things like when he lets Harry sleep in after finishing up a case and brings him breakfast and when he agrees to host a dinner at their home for all his Auror coworkers, Draco isn’t sure what Harry’s love means – and how it’s different from the love he has for his friends. Because Harry is also telling Hermione “I love you,” when she helps him with a case or agrees to babysit Teddy, and telling Weasley “I love you,” when he drops off pies made by Molly or loans him the newest quidditch magazine. In essence, Harry says “I love you” a lot and to a lot of people.

It’s almost a routine, the way Harry says “Fuck, I love you,” during sex (which is still amazing and mind-blowing) and “I love you” after sex, before kissing Draco’s neck. He’d liked the reassurance in the beginning, back before he’d realized how much Harry used those words, seemingly almost interchangeably with thank you’s, good morning’s, and goodnight’s.

Draco doesn’t use the word lightly.

He only says “I love you” to Harry when he’s struck by how much he actually _loves_ this man he never thought he would love, and when he needs to express how much he appreciates Harry and how happy Harry makes him. Draco isn’t prone to these moments that often, probably because Harry does stupid shit like make him worry when he’s out on missions _he’s not supposed to be on_ all fucking the time.

Sometimes Draco wonders if Harry would keep saying “I love you” to Draco even if he didn’t **love** Draco anymore, and thinks that he would. _How would I know?_ Would Harry feel obligated to stay with him because Teddy calls him Mum?

When Draco tries to breach the topic with Pansy she gives him a hug but she doesn’t quite know what to say. “Harry seems the type to love people forever,” she tells him, “and you’re very loveable.”

“I know _that_ , but how am I supposed to know if he **loves** me, or just loves me like he loves his best friends,” asks Draco.

“How’s your sex life?” asks Pansy.

“Brilliant,” says Draco, “but that doesn’t mean he **loves** me, we’re both brilliant at sex, I’m sure we could have brilliant sex with people we didn’t love, I mean I had brilliant sex with complete strangers in France that I definitely did not love.”

“Well don’t tell Potter that, he’ll go mad with jealousy if he hears you say you could have brilliant sex with people you don’t love right now.”

“I don’t mean it that way! I meant hypothetically…But do you think if he goes mad with jealousy that means he **loves** me?”

“Oh my god Draco do NOT try to make Harry jealous as a way to measure how much he loves you. We are not going to talk about this. He is going to _kill me_ if he thinks I gave you that idea, this conversation DID NOT HAPPEN.”

So Pansy is no help, and neither is Blaise.

Finally, Draco works up the courage to ask Hermione. Which is a bit awkward because he knows he sounds petty and needy and insecure and all sorts of disgusting things when he asks her how he’s supposed to know if Harry loves him, _loves_ him, or **loves** him.

Hermione tears up and tells him that she didn’t know he was such a romantic.

“I’m not,” states Draco, pouting.

“Right,” says Hermione, “Just like how you’re horrible with kids.”

“I am,” states Draco, crossing his arms.

“I love you,” says Hermione, cheekily, and Draco groans and buries his head in his arms.

“But in all seriousness,” says Hermione, “it’s all in the eyes, well his eyes specifically, in relation to you.”

Draco looks up at her. _The eyes?_

“I swear Harry’s eyes drip with honey and love and all the sweet stuff when he looks at you,” says Hermione, “he doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

So that night, after they have brilliant sex and Draco’s about to turn so his back faces Harry because he likes being little spoon, he decides against it and flops over so he’s facing Harry and can meet his eyes. _Come on eyes, tell me you love me._

“Well this is new,” says Harry, with his usual bright green eyes, a little hazier post-sex, and a little amused, but not as sappy as Hermione had led him to believe and reaches to pull Draco closer to him.

“I thought it might be nice to look at you,” says Draco a little concerned because Harry's eyes look pretty normal right now but then adds “you know, because I love you,” carefully.

Harry’s eyes widen with pleasure, and Draco’s get a front row view of his green eyes that are, actually, dripping with honey and love and all the sweet stuff when Harry says back, “I love you too.”


End file.
